Everything Comes With A Price
by cathandsaraforever55
Summary: When Miranda Priestly first laid eyes on Andy Sachs their lives collided without their knowledge. Caught up in a world of power, pain, and lust they begin to discover what neither of them could ever imagine. Miranda/Andy
1. Chapter 1

_Everything Comes with a Price  
_

Summary- When Miranda Priestly first laid eyes on Andy Sachs their lives collided without their knowledge. Caught up in a world of power, pain, and lust they begin to discover what neither of them could ever imagine. Miranda/Andy

Rated M

**Disclaimer-**I own nothing except the plot when it eventually unravels into completely my own. I take no claims over the characters or the scenes from The Devil Wears Prada

**Rated M**

**Summary-**When Miranda Priestly first laid eyes on Andy Sachs their lives collided without their knowledge. Caught up in a world of power, pain, and lust they begin to discover what neither of them could ever imagine. _Miranda/Andy_

**A/N-** This is my first attepmt at this pairing so I would love to know what you think.

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**Miranda's POV**

"Who is that?" Briefly I glance at the pitiably dressed young woman sitting at the unoccupied desk. Despite her poor appearance something about her leaves me slightly intrigued. However I do not let that show. I continue on my way to my desk as if she is merely just another person interrupting my busy schedule; which frankly she is. Why I should waist time pondering over her, I do not know, but clearly she has to be here for a reason so I mind as well find out what it is; that is if Emily would stop trying to hide her and stop looking at me like I just sentenced her to death.

"Nobody," Emily abruptly informs me. "…ah…well…um," I make my way to my desk pondering why I ever hired Emily in the first place. Her incompetence still manages to surprise me sometimes. I don't care if she is nervous all I asked for was a simple answer. "Well human resources sent her up about the new assistant job and I was pre-interviewing her," Her tone is hesitant and is getting on my nerves. I don't bother looking at her when I pause for a moment. My hand wanders to the belt around my waist in habit. "But uh….psh," she laughs nervously and my impatience grows, "hopeless."

I turn my eyes her way as I move behind my desk, but do not make eye contact. "Well clearly I'm going to have to do that myself, because the last two you sent me were completely inadequate," Looking up I lock eyes with Emily. I am careful to make sure that my tone remains icy and disdainful. Not that, that is a challenge while speaking to the red head in front of me. "So send her in. That's all." I sit down and ignore Emily who is staring at me with disbelief.

"Right."

What could be taking this girl so long to walk from the front office into mine, I cannot comprehend. I have a busy schedule today; a photo shoot, meetings, outfits to choose, parent teacher conferences, and the girls have a recital which I will be cutting it close to making on time. I don't have time to spare, yet others cannot seem to understand why I need a schedule. To top it all off I can't find the paper I need.

When I finally hear footsteps I close the drawer I am riffling through and turn my attention to the brunette who is entering the room. I slightly purse my lips in disapproval of her attire. No more should have to be said. If she cannot understand what I am saying through my body language she isn't worth my time. "Who are you?"

"Uh, my name is Andy Sachs," She walks toward me and sets her resume on my desk. "I recently graduated from Northwestern University."

I clean my glasses knowing that I appear uninterested when truthfully I am listening intently to what she is saying. She is different, and God knows we could use different around here. I don't want to end up with another Emily. "What are you doing here?" I clear my throat and put my glasses back on.

I turn my attention to the paper she has placed on my desk, "Well I think I could do a good job as your assistant," Briefly I skim the resume not caring at the moment what is on it. I place it the drawer I was just going through and glance up at the young woman. I can feel a smirk creeping onto my face in amusement of what she is saying before turning my attention to the newspaper I have been flipping through which is currently laying on my desk. "And um…" As I pick up paper I purse my lips, signaling that what she is saying is of no use to me. Thankfully she catches on. "Yeah," I can hear a small hint of exasperation in her voice which I can only assume is caused by my attitude. Not unusual. "I came to New York to be a journalist and…ah…sent letters out everywhere, and then finally got a call from Elias-Clarke, and finally met with Sherry up in Human Resources and," I continue to flip through the paper looking for any articles that capture my attention as she rants on not bothering to interrupt her yet. I can work with noise, for now. "Basically, it's this or _Auto Universe_."

"So you don't read _Runway?_" I find a something that catches my eye.

"Uh no," she responds with uncertainty. Now we are getting somewhere.

"And before today you had never heard of me."

"No," she reluctantly admits.

"And you have no style or sense of fashion."

"Well, um," she releases her breath quietly, "I think that depends on what your…"

"No, no," I wave my finger at her and then push my glasses down the bridge of my nose to look at her, "That wasn't a question," I finish. I play briefly with my earring as I run my eyes over her body, taking in every detail of what she is wearing. Dark brown pants, somewhere around chocolate, with light brown leather boots, for a top she has on lavender sweater over a white, cotton, button up blouse which went out of style a few seasons ago, if not a few years ago, and what looks like a knock off of a tweed jacket over that.

"Ummm I was editor and chief of _Daily Northwestern_, I, ah, also…um, won a national competition for college journalist of my series on the janitors' union, which exposed the exploitation…" Clearly I was hoping too much from this foolish girl. Is it too much to ask for a little change around here? Clearly she won't do.

I semi-turn my attention to her and interrupt her with, "That's all," as I dismiss her with my hands. Briefly I touch my glasses again before returning to reading today's news.

I hear her scoff, but brush it off without care. Nobody ever gets anything done by being nice. Her footsteps sound on the carpet before abruptly stopping. "Yeah. You know, okay. You're right, I don't fit in here. I'm not skinny or," This I do believe, is a first. Not many people would have the guts to stand up to me after I have dismissed them. Her obvious anger though, I know, is what gives her the courage to do this, and that makes me think… "Glamorous," I take off my glasses and again run my eyes down the length of her body and back again. She isn't model size, but she should not dismiss herself as not being good looking, or glamorous in her own, dare I say unique, way. Her wide chocolate eyes and porcelain complexion do leave something to be desired, and if she took the time to care about her appearance she could not only be gorgeous but possibly breathtaking. She has me hooked now, maybe I was wrong about her; maybe she is exactly what this place needs. I move my finger from my chin to rest on my lips a habit I have acquired when I think. "And I don't know that much about fashion, but I am smart," a brief show of confidence. That is good and she doesn't shy away from my gaze, unlike Emily; even better. "I learn fast, and I work very hard," Nigel pushes past her going on about some problem with Gwyneth. I tear my eyes from her only when he is at my side.

"But the problem is with the big feather headdress she looks like she's working the main stage at the Golden Nugget." I turn my attention down to the photos he is showing me. Fashion comes first. There will always be other girls even if this one has fallen under my favor.

"Thank you, for your time." I glance at her as she walks out of the room. I know what I will do.

I rush things along with Nigel eventually telling him to figure something out on his own, after his snide remark about the young woman who just left my office. He is going to have to get used to her. After assuring me I will see his solution he leaves the office in a huffy mood.

"Emily!" She instantly appears in my view. At least she doesn't keep me waiting. "I want her as the new second assistant."

"Wha…"

"Go tell her she is hired." She is still gawking at me. "That is all," I say exasperatedly. Finally regaining the ability to move Emily hurries out of the room.

What am I going to do with her as my first assistant? It's not the hero worship that bothers me. People assume I don't notice it, but I do and I happen to use it to my advantage. It's just that she cannot do anything without me telling her specifically how to. Hopefully this new girl will be less of an airhead. Considering her background I would hope so.

Not finding anything unusually appealing in the paper, or at least nothing that would leave even me not depressed after reading it, I set the paper aside. I rap my fingers against the desk as I wait for the two women to reappear in the office. This day has not started off well.

Sometimes I wish I could hear the distinct clacking of Emily's stilettos so that I wouldn't have to watch for her, but unfortunately working here means, unless you are a man, you better be wearing heels. Nobody ever said beauty is comfortable and I expect only the best from my employees.

I am on my way out by the time Emily and the new Emily are coming in. Set in a brisk pace I force them to move out of my way. "You start first thing tomorrow," I say over my shoulder. "Oh and Emily, get me those files, you know the ones I had yesterday, before the staff meeting today."

"Of course Miranda." Her tone informs me that she has no clue what I am talking about. Part of me takes pleasure in this, the other half or me, which always manages to override the other is just plain irritated.

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I enter the crowed room. All of the seats are already filled, and that simply won't do. I walk to the front room with purpose. My eyes locked on the center seat in front of the stage that _will_ be mine. I notice Stephen sitting a few rows back from the stage. His eyes meet mine and I can tell that he is mad. I know that he already started drinking tonight; he started at dinner. My stomach lurches. He better not start anything. Not here. Not tonight. Tonight is my daughters' special night and nothing will go wrong as long as I am here.

I walk in front of everybody. My eyes lock with those of the instructor. She gets up before I even inform her to. She would not want to upset the person who donates large sums of money to this organization monthly.

"Mrs. Priestly," She nods her head at me. I cringe inwardly. I hate being addressed by Mrs. or Ms. I don't even have my staff refer to me by those titles, which I believe, is saying something. I let it slide though. I take my seat. I can feel Stephen's eyes burning holes in the back of my head. He has never had a particularly friendly gaze, and sometimes I truly wonder why he asked me to marry him. He doesn't love me, well at least not anymore.

I am dreading the confrontation I know will occur when we get home tonight. I start glancing around, searching for the parents of the girls' friends hoping I will be able to get them out of the house tonight.

My girls' deserve better than what I have given them, and I know I will always be trying to give them the best to make up for what I cannot give them. Proper love and a proper father.

The Ex is only around because I demand it of him. I'm sure he would be long gone by now if I didn't, and Stephen, well Stephen was okay at first.

The lights begin to dim and I put my search for parents temporarily on hold. As the curtains pull back they reveal the young girls waiting behind it. My eyes instantly find Cassidy and Caroline and a smile grazes my lips. They look beautiful.

I watch in awe at the talent my daughters' display. When the light comes back on it feels as if we have only been sitting here for mere minutes. The dancers receive a standing ovation. There is pride and love swelling in my heart. I have only ever felt this way toward my daughters, and I know they are the only people in this world I would go to the ends of the Earth for.

When people begin to file out my eyes frantically dart around for familiar faces. I find Jenny's parents further down the aisle. I locate Stephen and am pleased to find he is already leaving the auditorium. Probably dying to isolate himself.

I walk toward Jenny's parents with a brisk pace hoping to make this encounter as brief as possible. The mother's name I am certain is Rose, but I cannot remember the father's. I hope I am not forced to strike up a conversation with him. "Rose," my tone is quiet and collected.

She turns around, auburn hair sweeping across her shoulders with her movement. "Miranda, it's great to see you again." She holds out a welcoming hand to me which I ignore. Her pleasant mood falters for a moment before she regains herself. "How have you been?"

"Fine," I send her a small fake smile. I allow my eyes to wander, as I am rather uninterested in small talk with most people. "You?" I ask graciously.

"Good, good. How can I help you?"

"Well," I take extra care to make sure my tone is pleasant. "I know the girls have been just dying to have a sleep over with Jenny, and I have this late night shoot, I just can't seem to get out of," I add a hint of irritation. "And I was hoping, that is if it's not of inconvenience to you that they could perhaps," I remove my glasses and hold them in my hand as I wave it around in a hinting way, "stay with you tonight?"

"Of course they can. James and I always love having Caroline and Cassidy around. Such pleasant girl." She beams at me and I make a small amused noise before plastering on a smile.

"Thank you so much." The girls rush over to us and I wrap an arm around each of them in a rare display of affection while Jenny talks excitedly to her mother.

"You two are going to spend the night at Jenny's tonight." I can hear them high five behind my back. I can't help but smirk. "I'll have Emily drop off your things." I kiss them both on the head and whisper in their ears, "I love you, you were amazing tonight."

I leave them and hope Stephen does not believe that he is riding in the same car as me.

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"You know what they were thinking at the recital?" Not again. He is always so conscious of what others are thinking; for once in his life could he consider others? That would be asking a great deal of Stephen.

"What were they thinking?" I ask to humor him. However my tone is icy.

"Oh look at him, the poor fool; even he can't manage to get affection from his wife. And at dinner…at dinner I saw the stares. Judging. Pitying. Since you were on the phone the whole time."

"Well what did you expect? It was work. I couldn't just _ignore_ the calls. I took time out of my work day to have dinner with you. I had other things I could have been doing." I run my hand through my hair no longer caring if I mess it up. "I'm trying my hardest to make time for you Stephen." I move closer to him and rest a hand on his chest. He reeks of alcohol and I am surprised that he is being so timid.

He stares down at me, eyes glazed and anger filled. "You only ever make time for those two spoiled brats of yours." I yank away from him. Any affection I attempted to feel for him is gone.

"Don't bring the girls into this."

"Why shouldn't I? They are who you really care about. You couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone else, including me."

"Why can't we just have nice night? Why do you have to be like this darling," I ask in a bitterly, loving tone. "We have the house to ourselves."

"I'm sure you can find some work to do instead of being around me," he replies grumpily. I am relieved I have kept the situation under control. At least this time.

"Why would I do that?" I move closer to him. Her wraps his arms around me and I press my body into his. I hold him closely hoping to convey affection that I rarely feel for him anymore. No matter how bad things get though I am going to make this marriage work. I can't deal with another divorce. I can't lose another father figure for my girls. No matter how jealous Stephen gets when he is drunk, I know he loves Caroline and Cassidy to death. He just doesn't know how to show it.

He puts his hand under my chin and tilts my head upward. He captures my lips with his. His touch is rough and he tastes like stale beer. No matter how repulsed I am I don't pull away. I think about how this relationship started, and remember the man I fell in love with three years ago. That man is one of the reasons I don't want to give up on us.

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"Emily…Emily," I wait and wish either of those two would figure out that I am calling them. There is a saying that time is money and in this business that is true.

I listen to Paul ramble on, answering a question that I didn't ask him. When I finally focus my eyes on him he stops talking. I inform him "That's not what I asked you," not caring if I embarrass him in front of the other people in the room. Turing I find the brunette girl finally entering the room. "Oh there you are Emily. How many times do I have to scream your name…" my tone is impatient, and I become even more annoyed when she decides to cut me off.

"A…a…actually it's Andy." I go stiff at her correction. Nobody corrects me. Ever. "My name is Andy. Andrea, but everybody calls me Andy." And she has the nerve to continue. I'm beginning to forget why I hired her in the first place, and that was only yesterday.

Again her wit, or more like naivety shocks me, but I refuse to show it. I smile at her with a mixture of shock and anger as I make an amused noise. On unusual occasions I have the heart to let these things slip."I need ten or fifteen skirts from Calvin Klein."

"Okay, what kind of skirts?"For the first time I can hear the uncertainty in her voice, and something painfully close to fear.

"Please bore someone else with your questions." I state allowing my irritation to show as I glance back at the others in the room. "And make sure we have Pier 59 at eight a.m. tomorrow. Remind Jocelyn I need to see a few of those satchels that Marc is doing in the pony. And then tell Simone that I will take Jackie if Maggie isn't available. Did Demarchelier confirm?"

"D..did D…Demarchel…"

"Demarchelier. Did he…Get him on the phone."

"Uh, o…okay." She nods and I can tell she has no clue what I am talking about. Perfect. Just perfect.

"And Emily?" I let the name cruelly role of my tongue.

"Yes?"

I run my eyes down her body critically and allow them to linger on her shoes as I step toward her. Her eyes follow mine. "That's all." I turn after dismissing her.

Unluckily for _Andy_ this isn't one of those days when I have the heart to let anything go.

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TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Andrea's POV**

Before this moment I was vaguely aware of why everyone is afraid of Miranda Priestly. I mean sure she holds an air of superiority, and has a gift when it comes to frightening people, but now, now without a doubt I understand. "This…stuff?" Her gaze is flesh melting and I wish that I could cower in the corner, but that would result in a multitude of things. One of the most unpleasant and most probable being I would soon be stuck in a corner with Miranda Priestly who would track me down if I tried to escape, I would be fired, and possibly dead just because Miranda seems to be in the mood to kill today. My words caused this mood, or at least contributed to it. I should have chosen them more carefully. "Oh. Okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you."

Her eyes run down the length of my body. Searing through me and I'm surprised that I'm not left in a pile of ashes. Luckily for me I'm not because Miranda would then hire someone to stomp on them. Since she would never step in a pile of ashes on her own and risk ruining those ridiculously expensive pair of high heels she has on at the moment. A small disdainful smirk appears on her lips. "You go to your closet…and you select…I don't know-that lumpy blue sweater, for instance…because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back."

Miranda takes a breath and I realize that she hasn't taken one since she started this…I'm not sure what this is. A sense of foreboding has crept into me and I'd rather not find out where her train of thought is going. I have seen Miranda be past cruel already, and don't want her words directed at me. Her eyes are still piercing me; searching for weakness.

Finally her focus leaves me and travels to the belts. I can feel the tension within me seep out and add to the increasing thickness of the air. My relief will not be long lasting, I know. "But what you don't know is that sweater is not just blue," Her eyes flicker to me after choosing one of what I still believe are identical belts. "It's not turquoise. It's not lapis. It's actually cerulean." Her attention travels back and forth from the dress to me. I watch her put the belt around the dress afraid that if I look up and catch her eye I will slowly and painfully begin deteriorating from the inside out. People say looks can kill, but I never had a reason to believe that until yesterday, when I first met Miranda Priestly.

"And you are also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent-wasn't it- who showed cerulean military jackets?... I think we need a jacket here…" I am feeling an extreme amount of pity for Nigel, no matter how blunt he can be, with Miranda constantly focusing her attention back on him when she is in such a foul mood. I'm sure he is accustom to it by now, but all the same I have great sympathy, and suddenly great respect for him. As I quickly study him, his expression is far less readable than others'. Almost as stony as Miranda's can be, but I have a small feeling that he might be enjoying my misery if only slightly.

"And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. And then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of a clearance bin." Her voice has remained quiet and controlled, but it is that quiet and controlled fury that I fear more than if she was pacing around ranting and raving. Anger like that…anger like that can be dangerous.

Longing to leave the room I glance back at Emily who is not even attempting to hide her pleasure, no doubt, hoping that I will be fired, or better yet thrown out the office window.

"However," I suppress the urge to cringe at the overly sweet yet furious undertone of Miranda's voice. "That blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs," Miranda's eyes finally rest back on me and in this moment I know I would rather willingly, throw myself off the Elias-Clarke building than be here, but I will not allow Miranda to discover that. "And it's sort of comical how you think that you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact," Miranda lets out a perfectly control breath. Almost as if it was deliberate and for effects, which I wouldn't put past her. "You're wearing a sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room…from a pile of stuff."

The fierce gaze of her stormy, blue eyes will be burned into my mind forever, and her words will silently linger within me.

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"Emily," the quiet voice emanates from the adjoining room. Quickly I stand and straighten my clothes before entering the office.

"Yes Miranda?" Her back is to me. She doesn't bother to face me before she gives orders.

"Pick up the skirts that I ordered from Calvin Klein, and while you are out pick up my dry cleaning. Get me more Starbucks as well, and I want it hot. I don't know why you find it such a challenge to get my order right Emily. I will not accept luke warm lattés any longer. Oh, and take Patricia for a walk…" I suppress a groan. The last time I took Patricia for a walk it was a fiasco. Not only did she scare half of the citizens of New York City with her bark, have fits at window displays, and drag me half way across town, but I almost got hit by a car because she decided she wanted to chase the birds on the opposite side of the road.

"I trust that you will have more success with this task than last time Emily." Miranda swivels in her chair to face me and when I lock eyes with her I swear I can see something close to amusement dancing in them. It is rapidly replaced with indifference, and I realize she is waiting for an answer.

"Of course Miranda." I place a strained smile of my face. Briefly the emotions in her eyes stir once more behind their hazy, professional wall.

"That's all."

I nod at Miranda and receive no response other than her steely gaze.

As I leave the room I can feel her eyes on me. Self consciousness is pouring into me under the pressure of her stare. Part of me wonders what thoughts flash through her mind when Miranda watches me the way she does, but the other half of me knows that it is all horrible and it is a good thing I don't know what goes on in Miranda's mind.

I rush through the first three tasks and then call Roy. I have him take the skirts, dry cleaning, and coffee back to the office. This time I've decided I am going to walk Patricia the right way. Not on the sidewalks of New York City.

Going up the steps of Miranda's townhouse I ring the bell and wait. After a few minutes I can hear footsteps behind the door. The door is opened a fraction of the way and Maria the housekeeper peeks out of the crack. I smile at her. When she sees me she opens the door further. "Hi Maria. I'm here to pick up Patricia for a walk."

"Of course Andy." She glances around behind me. "You can come in if you want while I get her on her leash."

I can hear the fear in her voice and I know that she is taking a chance. If Miranda ever found out I was allowed in Maria would most likely be involved in some tragic "accident."

"No that's alright. I can wait." She locks eyes with me and smiles gratefully. I can hear Patricia's booming bark as she runs toward the door. When it reopens Maria hands me the leash and I thank her.

"Come on Patricia." Once we are down the stairs and on the sidewalk she begins to drag me. Firmly I yank on her leash and to my surprise she slows down. I walk her to a park close by. It is small and private. Created for the residents of nearby homes it is a refreshing change from the busy streets of New York City.

I am unsure if I should let Patricia off her leash and decide not to risk the chance of her running away. That is a sure way to securing a future of living in my parents' house with my dream job at McDonalds.

My cell phone pierces the calm silence of the park with its shrill ring. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Emily's frantic voice rushes from the phone.

"Walking Patricia for Miranda."

"You've been gone for almost three hours!" Oh shit. "Miranda is fuming because nothing is getting done that needs to be. Get back here! Remember it's not your head that is on the chopping block at the moment, it is mine!" There is a click and the call is ended.

Rushing back to Miranda's townhouse I hurriedly drop off Patricia and call Roy.

Running into the Elias-Clarke building I skid to a stop in front of the elevator. Frantically I jab at the button. Knowing that the elevator won't come any faster I decide to take the stairs. Turning I hear an elevator ding and then an icy voice commands attention behind me. "Emily. I see you've decided to, grace us, with your presence. How…wonderful." I swallow; my mouth is becoming dry. Swirling around I meet Miranda's eyes. "I'm certain you have a fascinating tale of what kept you from your work…"

"I'm sorry Miranda I took Patricia to the park so she could…"

"However I am a busy woman, and could care less." I can see something creeping into the defined features of her face. "Go take over for Emily before she decides to relieve her bladder all over the carpet in my front office. That's all."

I hurry to catch the elevator Miranda just exited. When the doors close behind me I let out a loud sigh. That was close.

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Quietly I creep into the apartment. All of the lights are off and I can hear Nate faintly snoring in the bedroom. Glancing at the clock the neon numbers inform me that it is two in the morning.

I was getting ready to leave the office when Miranda stormed through the glass doors dropping her jacket and purse on my desk without glancing around. Since Emily had already left for the night I had to stay.

When Miranda finally left for the night, around twelve thirty, I was left with more work to do.

In my attempt to be careful and not wake Nate I collide with the table. "Shit," I hiss.

"Andy is that you?" Nate sleepily calls.

"Yeah I'll be in, in a minute." Glancing through the glass divider that separates the bedroom from the kitchen I can barely make out Nate's form laying in bed.

Changing into a t-shirt and boxers I crawl under the covers and snuggle up to Nate. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer. "What did the Dragon Lady have you doing tonight?"

I cringe at the nickname. "I asked you not to call Miranda that." I might complain about Miranda, but in reality I do hold a level of respect for the woman. Calling her names is something I have never done, and never will do. Miranda may be cold and harsh but she doesn't deserve some of the things people refer to her as. Now that I work for her I can see that. If I wasn't, and I knew who she was I'm sure I would have done the same thing. "Confirming appointments…the usual."

"This early in the morning?"

"Nobody refuses a call from Miranda Priestly no matter how late, but no, I had other things to do. Orders to place and last minute things to catch up on."

"Why do you keep doing it Andy?" He has asked this question frequently in the past month and a half.

"I've told you, being Miranda Priestly's assistant opens a lot of doors. All I have to do is stick it out for a year and…"

"Not let Miranda get to you. Yeah I know." His tone has changed from loving to unhappy.

"Go back to sleep Nate. We can talk about this some other time." I lightly brush my lips against his. I know he is mad. His arm tightens around me. I also know that he will get over it.

Working at _Runway_, even though I would never admit it, has become more to me than just opening up other job opportunities. I don't know what it is, but something has begun to pull me into that world. I might not have the fancy clothes, or the intense interest in fashion, yet something is there. Barely visible and frequently disappearing. I notice it though in the way I see _Runway_, in the way I see the employees of _Runway, _and in the way I see Miranda Priestly.

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My cell phone rings and I welcome the distraction from my dad's concerns about my job. Nate thankfully has not brought up the subject of why I work for _Runway _since our early morning conversation a week ago.

"…this is my boss. I'm sorry Dad. I ha…have to take this." I don't know why Miranda would be calling me since she is in Miami at the moment. "Hello, Miranda?"

"My flight has been canceled. There's some absurd, ah, weather problem. I need to get home _tonight_. The twins have a recital tomorrow morning at school."

"What?" If her flight is canceled she can't possibly believe there is anything I can do about it. The twins will have to understand that even their mother can't control the weather. I know what she is asking is a ridiculous request, but it shows how much Miranda cares about her daughters. I would never point that out to her.

"At school." Her voice has risen from a controlled whisper to barely more than a whisper. This surprises me because Miranda never raises her voice.

"Absolutely, let me see what I can do."

"Oh, good." Then I am listening to silence. So much for a nice, peaceful evening with my dad.

Immediately I dial the number of the airline. Standing up I excuse myself from the table and move further back in the restaurant so I can hear. "Hi, um, ah, I know this is totally last minute, but I was hoping that you could maybe get a flight for my boss from Miami to New York tonight." I can see my dad signaling to the food being brought out. "Uh…" I motion for him to start without me and continue my pacing.

"I'm sorry Ma'am but most flights from that area are being canceled there is really nothing I can…"

"It's for my boss, Miranda Priestly…"

"Oh, alright, well let me send your call to my boss and maybe he can do something for Ms. Priestly."

"Thank you." Hurrying back to the table I take a few bites of my food while I wait for the atrocious music to stop playing and an actual person to come on the line. "I'm so sorry Dad," I say between bites, "Miranda's flight was canceled and she needs to get home. Her daughters have something at school tomorrow that she _has_ to be at."

"It's fine honey. Just do your best." I smile at him trying to reassure him. He doesn't understand the situation, or who I am dealing with.

We exit the restaurant and my dad hails a cab. As I get in I am taken off hold. "Hello this is Connor Baker how may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm trying to get a flight for my boss, Miranda Priestly, from Miami to New York tonight. I know that things are canceling, but is there any way that something could be arranged?"

"Miranda Priestly? Let me check for you hold on a second." I can hear computer keys being rapidly pressed down. "It looks as if almost everything has been canceled..."

"What about a jet?" The cab has stopped and I open the door to get out.

"A jet?"

"Yeah any kind of jet. From Miami to New York."

"Does it have to be for tonight?" What, did this person not just hear what I said?

"Yes it has to be for tonight." There is a thud and I look back. My dad gets the rest of the way out of the car after I accidently shut the door on him. "I thought you were going to get…"

"No." I should feel bad about hurting him, but at the moment I am too preoccupied with Miranda's problems to take notice of my own.

"You are going to have to talk to someone higher up. Hold on I'll transfer your call."

"Okay." The streets of New York are packed as usual. I can feel my dad rest a hand on my elbow. Probably out of fear I will be so distracted that I will walk in front of a car. Somehow I know even that wouldn't be a good enough excuse for Miranda of why I couldn't get her a flight, or I might consider doing it on purpose.

"How may I help you ma'am?"

"Hi I'm trying to get a flight tonight, for tonight, for Miami to New York."

"Ma'am there is a hurricane."

"Yes I'm aware there's a hurricane."

"That means absolutely not thing is flying out at this point."

"Nothing is flying out!" I am beginning to panic. I have to get this flight. The word understanding is not included in Miranda's vocabulary. "What do you mean nothing is flying out!?!" Why have I been stuck on the phone with them if they knew this? I could be talking to other people, to anyone! "It's for Miranda Priestly, and I know that she is a client of yours. She has flown with you before."

"I'm aware of the situation ma'am. I can transfer you. Hold on one moment please." My stomach is starting to churn as all the things Miranda could do to me begin to race through my mind.

I am starting to cross the street when I am taken off hold.

"This is Jeff speaking. I understand you are trying to get a flight for Ms. Priestly." The way he says this raises my hopes.

"Yes, yes to New York."

"From Miami? You know all those… are canceled right? Not just …this airline. In every one." Beeping interrupts him, informing me I have another caller.

"Yeah, sorry, hold on… Hello?"

"Have you gotten a flight yet?"

"Miranda hi, look I'm trying to get you a flight, but no one if flying out because of the weather."

"Please, it's just, I don't know, drizzling," I can hear thunder rumbling in the background. If I wasn't so worried about the repercussions of not getting Miranda a flight I might laugh at what she has said. "Someone must be getting out. Call Donatella get her jet. Call anybody else that we know," I already know the answer to my question without calling anyone, "that has a jet, Irv, call everyone. This is your responsibility, this is your job. Get me home." I hang up the phone. I can feel tears building in my eyes due to fear. It shouldn't be possible for anyone to be so…so…

"Oh my God, she is going to murder me."

My dad looks at me in disbelief. It is all too obvious he doesn't have the first clue of what Miranda will do. "What does she want you to do? Call the National Guard and have her airlifted out of there?" I can hear the growing frustration in my father's voice.

"No of course not! Could I do that?"

My dad leads me into the theater. I call Irv, Donatella, and everyone I can think of. The calls are done in record time because either the person is not available or their answer is no. I am considering calling the National guard like my father suggested exasperatedly when _Chicago_ starts.

I am about to get up and make calls in the lobby when I glance at my father. He flew here to visit me, and have a good time tonight. Looking down at my phone I turn it on silent and slip it in my bag.

My nerves gnaw away at my stomach to the point where I believe I am going to throw up all over the person sitting in front of me. The moment I answered Miranda's call there was no way that this night could be salvaged. Not when I am fearing for my life.

* * *

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Miranda's POV**

Leaning against the front of my desk I refuse to look at tentative girl standing in front of me. Pain and guilt swirl within me. Because if her I couldn't be there for Caroline and Cassidy. The thing is, she did nothing wrong. I have no doubt that Andrea did try her hardest to get me that flight. Unfortunately for her, she is the one who will get the brunt of my rage. Or what I've manipulated to appears as rage. I wasn't there for my girls…_I wasn't there…_ a cruel voice echoes in my mind. "The girls' recital was absolutely wonderful," absentmindedly I run my fingers over my necklace. The smooth, cold texture is soothing. I cannot bring myself to look up. Andrea despite all of her disappointments is different. She doesn't deserve what's coming to her, and for once I care that I am going to crush the soul of an innocent, young woman. I try to push the guilt aside but it struggles against me…my girls. "They played Rachmaninoff. Everyone loved it." Taking a deep breath I give myself a moment to reign my emotions back in and lock them away where no one can ever see them. Can never use them against me. "Everyone except for me," Taking a chance I look up at the brunette, hoping that I am revealing nothing, "Because, sadly, I was not there." I stand up, but remain where I am. I allow my eyes to pierce Andrea.

"Miranda I'm so sorry." She shakes her head. Her voice is quiet and laced with sincerity. The appearance of such an emotion shocks me. It shocks me because of what lies in her eyes. Those chocolate pools are an open book and reveal that she is not sorry because she might lose her job; she is sorry because she let me down. What I see causes me to hesitate. To question whether letting my anger out on Andrea is a wise move.

Tilting my head to the side, I continue examining her as I ask, "Do you know why I hired you?" I allow my words to come out quietly and deliberately. Every motion and word is deliberate. Every carefully chosen word and motion hides the whirlwind of emotions that plague me. I can no longer bear to look at the heart wrenching sight in front of me. Moving away from the desk I adjust my belt, "I always hire the same girl…stylish, slender," I gesture toward Andrea with my hand knowing her points of weakness; her insecurities, "Of course. Worships the magazine. But so often they turn out to be," I shrug; I can sense the tears building, without glancing at Andrea. I refuse to look at her knowing that I am purposefully hurting her. "I don't know…disappointing, and, um…" Carefully I rest my eyes on her. Making sure my gaze is cold and spiteful. I tilt my head at her slightly in the direction of the outer office, "stupid."

The expression upon her face is one of overwhelming sadness. I turn away from her, and move without a destination. "So you, with that impressive resume," I find myself at the window, and I turn my attention back to Andrea, "and the big speech about your so-called work ethic." I allow my pleading mind relief as my eyes roam down to the objects on the windowsill. "I um…I thought you would be different. I said to myself go ahead," I gesture with my hand for effects, "Take a chance. Hire the smart, fat girl." I continue to gaze out the window and down upon the streets of New York City. Any place other than the depressing young woman standing in my office. I rest the hand I was gesturing with on my chin.

Why couldn't she just get me a flight? Why did Andrea have to be the one to let me down when it came to my daughters? I have a reputation to uphold no matter what my mind says or doesn't say. For once I decide to express part of what I am feeling. My true emotions not the ones that I have deemed suitable, the ones that will keep people away. Clearing my throat I say, "I had hope. My God, I live on it."With only the truth leaving my lips I feel exposed. "Anyway, you ended up disappointing me more than any of the other silly girls."

I move back to my desk. Eyes darting around I'm not certain where to look or what made me be so truthful. Momentarily my eyes land on Andrea, but the sorrow and self consciousness masking her face is too much. It will always be too much to see what I am seeing in those eyes. Tears building up and threatening to fall.

"Um, I really did everything I could think of. Uh…" Her emotions have thickened and muffled her voice.

"That's all." I weakly motion her to leave with my hands. I cover the half hearted motion by briefly touching my temple and then rubbing my nose and sniffling.

I watch Andrea leave the office. Leaning back in my chair I allow myself to slightly slump, and my fingers wander to my necklace. Her shoulders shake as she struggles to keep in her tears. Knowing that no one is watching me I allow my walls to fall for a moment. I allow myself to acknowledge my confusion over the fact that I have never cared whom I hurt…and I still don't…unless it is Andrea…

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"I'm not talking to you while you are like this Stephen." My words are cold and sharp, but that doesn't deter him from advancing on me. As he comes closer the stench of alcohol penetrates my senses.

"Why not? G…Got some work to d…do or something?" He slurs. "Or do you just not want to…to talk to me?" He is unsteady on his feet and I am afraid he is going to crash into something valuable, that or fall down the stairs. I continue to back away from him slowly while keeping my eyes glued to him ready to rush forward if needed.

I refuse to speak to him. Not wanting to encourage him to start in on his drunken rant again. "Can't find time for your own…your own family…Dragon Lady? Of…of course you can't spend time with m...me, but…but the kids now too." I clench my jaw in anger. Stephen knows how to push my buttons.

"Don't involve the girls in this. Not again."

His smile is cruel. "Have I managed to…to touch a nerve… in…in the Ice Queen?" He is unfazed by my glare.

My back presses against a hard surface and I realize too late that I have backed myself into the wall. I curse as Stephen's grin becomes even wider as he manages to comprehend the fact that I have been backing away from him. He, with his limited mind, will believe it is fear that makes me move away from him, but I know my limits. I know he can overpower me, but I am not scared. Why should I be? Stephen in all of his drunken glory has never laid a hand on me. Only complained.

"Tell me Miranda? Did I strike a… a nerve in _the_ Miranda Priestly?"

"No," I say quietly.

"What was that? You…you'll have to…to speak up." I stare into his bloodshot eyes and am void of emotion. Should I feel scared? Angry? Upset? I can see it in his eyes. He is furious. The built up rage from the three years of our lives spent together. He no longer is hesitating. He no longer cares…

His hand squeezes my wrist tightly. I try to yank it free of his grip, but he refuses to let go. His face is inches from mine. "Answer me," he growls. I try to pull my wrist free from his hand again, but his hold tightens causing pain to shoot up my arm. His other hand finds my free wrist and he roughly pins my hands above my head.

I struggle against him, but it only seems to encourage him. Stilling my movements I look him straight in the eye and whisper fiercely, "Stop."

He is silent for a moment before letting out a hollow chuckle. "Why?" I refuse to admit that he is hurting me. Even when his hands become tighter and my wrists start to throb.

"I'm not going to do this Stephen."

"You've…you've already said that. And yes you are." I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid letting out a whimper of pain.

I push my body against him again trying to get away. He is steady though, and the glazed look is out his eyes. It is pure anger. It is Stephen.

His lips crash into mine. Unwillingly I grant his persistent tongue access to my mouth hoping that he will let go of my wrists. He bites my lower lip drawing blood which mingles in between us. A bitter taste, just as bitter as the alcohol it has mixed with.

Stephen pulls away from me and smirks emotionlessly. "You might still have looks, but you are too old to still be a turn on Miranda," he says before letting go of me and making his way up the next flight of stairs slightly more steadily than before.

He's not telling me anything I don't know.

Deciding to stay out of the bedroom tonight, I retreat to my office and lock the door behind me. Turning on the light I sit at my desk and glance at the clock. I missed the girls tonight before they left for their father's. I wanted to be here, but work beckoned for me like it usually does.

A few weeks ago I had gone to _Runway_ at night to escape the house and Stephen's alcohol induced anger, or I had assumed it was partially alcohol induced, but I after tonight I'm not as positive it was. I hadn't expected anyone to be there, and I figured the office would hold some peace. Provide a safe haven. When I arrived there Andrea was logging off of her computer. She seemed surprised to see me but I pretended as always not to notice her.

I didn't mind she was in the office though. She is a much quieter worker than Emily, and having a familiar and kind presence close acted as a soothing affect.

Knowing my girls they will still be up at their father's. He doesn't pay them any attention and only takes them because the court order says he has to. Why he put up such a fight for custody in the first place I have yet to figure out. It is clear her doesn't want them.

I pick up the phone and the light falls on my wrists. Bruises are already forming against my skin. I take a deep breath as a voice on the other end of the line says "Hello?"

"Bubsy?"

"Miranda?" Andrea?

"Emily?"

"Yeah."

"I, uh…I must have dialed your number instead of Cassidy's."

"Oh. Okay, well can I get you anything?"

"No!" I realize I've raised my voice. "No," I repeat coolly. I need to pull myself together. I hang up before I am forced to do any more explaining.

I watch my fingers as I dial Cassidy's number. While I wait for her to pick up I stare at the dark wood of my desk, my eyes tracing the natural pattern that it follows.

"Hello?" My daughter's voice fills the line. Her voice brings a small smile to her lips as it smothers the pain within me. Yet it reminds me that if Stephen and I had argued only a few hours earlier Caroline and Cassidy would have had to see the whole thing.

I never want my girls to see me as weak. I want them to have a strong mother figure to look up to even if that means I am slightly icy toward them at times in the process.

If they had seen what Stephen had done, I would never forgive myself. Never.

"Hi Bubsy. How was your day?"

"Okay."

"Yeah? What did you do in school?"

"Nothing much." I can hear the frosty tone in her voice and I can tell she is upset.

"What's wrong darling?" I have a feeling I know exactly what is wrong but I would rather hear it from Cassidy.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to Mommy darling, I can tell something is wrong." I say, attempting to encourage her. I'm not very good at this part of mothering. I love my daughters, but I am used to scaring the truth out of people, and I don't know any differently at this point.

"It's just…"I smile knowing that it wouldn't take that much to get what is bothering Cassidy out of her. Caroline on the other hand is a different story. "It seems like you are never around. I'm not talking just about the thing with the hurricane so don't assume that's what is bothering me, but when it comes to the little things…like things at home, you're never there." Listening to my daughter talk forces me to remember how old my girls are getting.

"I tried Bubsy, but you know Mommy has things to do at work."

"Work. Yeah, I know Mom. You always have things to do at work."

"I know…how about this Cassidy. I have to fly out to Los Angeles on a business trip tomorrow afternoon. I was going to have you and Caroline stay with your father…would you like to join me instead?"

"Really?" I can hear the excitement in her voice and a smile grazes my lips.

"I suppose, but you must make sure to get the work you will be missing for the week in school tomorrow."

"I will. I promise."

"Good. I will have Roy pick you and Caroline up, that is if Caroline wants to join us, early from school and bring you to the airport. We will be taking the jet as usual."

"Okay. What about our clothes and stuff?"

"I'll take care of that Bubsy. Can I talk to your sister?"

"Yeah hold on." I can hear Cassidy say, "Caroline, Mom wants to talk to you."

Caroline hisses back, "I don't want to talk to her."

"But she will want to talk to you about taking us to L.A. with her tomorrow."

"I don't want to go and I _don't_ want to talk to her." I can feel my heart breaking with my daughter's words. What did I expect? Caroline is much less forgiving than her sister. Much more like me.

"Mom…Caroline is, uh sleeping. Maybe you could call her tomorrow morning."

"That's okay Bubsy. Tell Caroline I'm sorry, and that it is perfectly alright if she wants to stay with her father while we are in Los Angeles."

"You heard?"

"I have to go darling. I love you and I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too." I hang up and take a deep breath.

I stare at the wall wondering what I can do to make it up to the girls. I remember something Caroline said she wanted and pick up the phone. "Miranda?" Andrea asks with uncertainty.

"Emily, good." Part of me wants to call her by her real name. It's not like I don't know it, contrary to what people think. I have known it since the interview in my office, because even then I could tell Andrea was different than the others, and not just in appearance. But experience has taught me that the girls I hire will work harder if they are struggling to be acknowledged properly. "I want two of the newest iPods on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

"Of course Miranda. About earlier…is everything okay? You seemed off…"

"That's all Emily." I hang up the phone. Why would Andrea bother to ask that? It's not her problem.

Sighing I move The Book in front of me. _Runway_ always needs to be attended to and for that, at the moment, I am grateful.

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Walking into the office I watch as people go to lengths to avoid entering into my path. I can see them whispering to each other. Wondering why I am here when I am scheduled to fly to Los Angeles this afternoon. Their fear lifts my spirits. Here at _Runway_ I have control, and that is all that matters.

Opening the glass doors that lead into the front office Emily is sitting at her desk. "Miranda," she does not hide the surprise in her voice. "I didn't realize you were going to come in today…" My eyes briefly flicker to her, silencing the baffled young woman. "Do…you you want coffee? I can have Andrea get you coffee before she comes back."

"No." I take off my jacket and drop it with my purse on Andrea's desk. Emily scrambles out of her chair to put it away. "What I do want Emily, is to be left alone while I am in my office. I don't care if the President of the United States shows up in this office; I do not want to be disturbed. Understood?"

"Yes Miranda."

I leave her to do whatever it is she does while she is alone in the room and move to my own desk. Laying on it are two brand new iPod Touches. Turning one on I find that Andrea has already put all of the girls' music on them. How she managed this I'm not sure, but it is a nice touch.

I read page six of _The Times_ and then check my email. There are a few emails from various designers which I skim and then forward to Emily with clear directions of what to do. I glance at the clock and remember that Nigel is supervising a shoot at the moment. I decide to stop in and see how it is going.

As I make my way into the hallway I can hear Andrea moving around in the small room attached to the front office that contains the necessities for them to make lunch and eat it, with the door closed of course, if they choose to do so.

I get into the elevator and press the button for basement level where the studio currently is. I've been fighting with Irv to have the room moved up a few levels but that would require a renovation which he is refusing to pay for. He will see my way in the end though, he always does.

When I enter the room I catch Nigel's eyes and he says, "Miranda." As my name travels across the room I notice how models and photographers tense in my presence.

I stop next to one particularly nervous photographer. Nigel comes and joins me. "I thought you were flying out to L.A. today."

"I am. With Cassidy."

"Oh. What about Caroline?" Nigel is the only one of my employees who would dare ask me about my life outside of work. Or ask me questions at all. Well, apart from Andrea that is, who still hasn't seemed to receive the memo that nobody asks me questions unless they have a good reason to do so. Nigel is different though and I don't bite off his head because we have been working together longer than I have worked with any other person in this building. He works hard and seems to be the only one who truly understands what I am trying to achieve with _Runway_. I feel a strange sense of attachment to him.

I shrug and catch him glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. He appears to accept that he will get no other answer from me. "It's a good thing you are here. There is something off about this whole shoot and no matter what I change it is still wrong." I am grateful that he knows when to change the subject.

I observe as the photographer takes pictures and the models posing. They are so stoic and distant it as if they are not in the room. "Not enough emotion," I inform him quietly before I turn and leave the room.

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Sitting in the empty jet it feels odd not having the usual group of people with me, however they were not needed seeing as this is a simple consulting with a few up and coming designers I am considering publishing in _Runway_. Anything I have doubts about I can take pictures of and send to Nigel who I've made sure will be available anytime in the next week when I need him.

There are footsteps on the stairs outside of the jet and then Cassidy appears. She smiles at me when our eyes meet and then takes a seat next to me. Automatically I tug at my sleeves to make sure my wrists are covered. I dig in my purse and hand her the new iPod. "Here Bubsy."

"Thanks." She turns it on and scrolls through the music. "When did you have time to put this on here?" When she looks at me her blue eyes sparkle with amusement. She knows perfectly well that I wouldn't have the first clue about how to put music on those things. I learn only what is necessary and have assistants for the rest.

"Andrea did it before I had gotten into work today."

"Andrea?" She raises her eyebrows at me. "Since when do you call her by her real name?"

"I don't." She nods. I can see that she had a suspicion that I didn't.

"Then why refer to her as Andrea around everyone else?"

"Well I didn't want you to think the real Emily actually did it. That girl is far too incompetent to think of such a thing."

Cassidy's smile is getting wider. "And you care who gets the credit now instead of it just being done?" I raise an eyebrow at her and her smile falters. "Sorry."

"You've never been so curious about what goes on at work before darling."

She shrugs, "I guess I'm just trying to see what you like so much about it." This causes a small smile to appear on my face. That is sweet of her, but I know she will never be able to see fashion the way I do. Neither will Caroline. It is not as important to them. Of course they have style I wouldn't allow them not to, but their passion lies elsewhere. Cassidy's is in writing and Caroline's in music.

I pull The Book out and open it. I grab sticky notes and a pen from my purse and begin to go over the pages with a critical eye. Cassidy turns on her iPod. It surprises me when she rests her head on my shoulder. A loving gesture I am not accustom to. I stiffen for a moment before sinking into the contact with my daughter and savoring this small amount of time I get to spend with her.

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Walking through the glass doors leading to the two offices I am surprised to find the front office empty. The person on the other end of the line continues to talk in my ear while I continue to pretend to listen. I am slightly disappointed that Andrea is not at her desk. I haven't seen her all week and she usually says good morning to me. Even if I act like I don't hear her, I do appreciate and enjoy the gesture.

The fact that I have missed Andrea's morning greetings while I was in L.A. strikes me as odd, and I can't figure out why I would miss such a trivial thing. I place my jacket and purse on Andrea's desk as I say "The gowns were fabulous." Assuming that is what this phone call is about. The person on the other line seems taken aback and I realize that we weren't to that topic yet, but my mind is too preoccupied to care.

They take my lead and begin to talk about the gowns. I make my way into the office, "Mm-hmm. We're gonna use the burgundy" I move further into the office and my eyes land on Andrea. Suddenly I am speechless. Andrea is stunning in one of the latest fashions with hair done and makeup included. Shocked is an understatement. I didn't think she could ever pull it off, but she did. She looks amazing.

Slowly I drag my eyes up her body and my approval increases as I take in the fine details. When my eyes meet hers those chocolaty brown orbs radiate with warmth and a smile of their own.

I try my hardest to suppress my emotions, but a smirk sneaks onto my lips which only widens Andrea's smile. To cover up my slip up I lick my lips and pass Andrea on the way to my desk.

Realizing I am still on the phone I say "Gotta find…" I am cut off by an eager designer wanting to add their opinion. Usually I would not tolerate this, however my mind has wandered back to Andrea without my permission. My eyes soon catch up with my brain and I find myself gazing over my shoulder at Andrea as she leaves my office.

Finally I manage to rip my eyes away from Andrea's retreating form and take a seat behind my desk. As I focus my attention back on the phone call I keep telling myself that I have done nothing wrong. I was only appreciating Andrea's outfit.

* * *

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Andrea's POV**

Stepping out of the elevator of James Holt's flat I can sense the alcohol flittering around the edges of my system. Promising pleasure; attempting to make you forget the pain that will follow. Squeezing my eyes shut I think about the last time I ate and can't remember when it was. My cell phone begins to ring. Forcing Miranda's presence on me once again. The thing is, I'm beginning not to mind.

Digging the phone out of my bag I take a deep breath before answering. "Hi Miranda."

"Do you have the designs?" Always one for exchanging pleasantries.

"Yes I'm just leaving now…"

"Bring them to _Runway_."

"Now?"

"No next year, yes _now_ Emily." I can hear the annoyance in her tone. I can tell from the sound of her quiet voice that she is in a worse mood than usual.

"Will you be there?" I can hear the sharp intake of breath. That doesn't stop me from asking Miranda questions. Somebody has to.

"Does that matter? Bring Starbucks with you." I smile understanding that is Miranda's way of answering without allowing anyone to know she is letting someone get away with questioning her.

Knowing that I should get rid of the light buzz of alcohol before appearing in front of Miranda I decide I will grab something to eat at Starbucks. That is assuming that I can find a Starbucks that is still open. This is New York City, the city that never sleeps; it can't be that hard can it?

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I nod at the night guards as they send me a little wave. One scalding hot latté, one coffee, two fat-free apple tarts, and James Holt designs in hand.

I get in the elevator and wait. As the doors open I find the halls of _Runway_ dark and barren. The sight isn't unusual when you work for Miranda Priestly whom often puts in more hours than any of the other employees of _Runway_ combined.

The dim light of Miranda's office illuminates the outer office. Pushing the door open with my shoulder I glance at Miranda who doesn't bother to look up as I enter. Smirking at the expression of concentration on her face I set everything down and hang up my coat. I attempt to flatten the wrinkles from my clothes and smooth the static from my hair. Peering in the microwave over the sink in the small room at my reflection, I decided I look decent for this hour. I grab a small plate from the room and silverware before taking the coffee, treats, and designs into Miranda's office. Cautious not to spill the coffee I put the designs into Miranda's outstretched hand. She takes them and places the leather portfolio under the desk beside her. I place her latté on the desk and then the plate. I go to pull the apple tart out of the bag as Miranda waves her hand twice signaling to me to stop. Looking up at her, "Do you not…" She holds her hand out.

My eyebrows shoot up and she glances up rolling her eyes. I place the apple tart with wrapper in her hand and watch as she takes a bite out of it. When she swallows she looks back up at me. My eyes have not left her. Seeing Miranda acting just like everyone else is different. Endearing, when she usually demands everything be delivered to her on a silver platter. Her eyes go wide "What?" Snapping out of my trance I shake my head in reply; struggling to fight off my blush at being caught staring. "I'm assuming you didn't buy two apple tarts for me Emily; knowing that I would not eat two, so sit."

I follow her orders taking a seat in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Sipping her latté Miranda observes me. I can only assume she is inspecting my appearance. "Do I need to order you to eat too?"

"I…no." I remove my own apple tart from the bag and take a bite. It is almost flavorless since it is fat-free but it is food all the same. I take a gulp of my coffee. Involuntarily my face scrunches at the bitter taste. Miranda raises an eyebrow at me. "I just started drinking it black." She nods.

Her cool blue eyes remain locked with mine. For the first time I realize that I am enjoying this. The silence. Miranda's presence. She is not being hostile, yet not overly nice. Decent and I like it. Miranda is different when she is out of the eyes of the people at _Runway._ It is this Miranda I sometimes believe I might be able to have a friendship with. However one glance at the woman the people have decided is the devil and that thought is extinguished.

I detect something in Miranda's eyes and if I didn't know better I would guess it is sadness. Something close to concern stirs in the pit of my stomach. "Miranda…is everything okay?"

She clears her throat as I watch her walls rapidly build around her. She returns her attention to the pictures in front of her. "Why would you ask such a thing Emily?" Her tone is icy. I gulp.

"I…I…"

"I do not have time to listen to your blabbering so if you wish to make a point, make it."

"No reason." She raises an eyebrow, her eyes never leaving the photos as they rake the articles of clothing upon them like a fine toothed comb.

"Why ask a question if there is no reason for it? Irv has informed me he has been on the phone with PETA and has assured them that _Runway _will run and article on designers who use alternatives to animal fur. Get me a detailed list of those designers and then contact them and inform them that I will need to see a variety of their collection; they have a week to prepare."

"Irv said?" I am shocked that Miranda would give into Irv's will so easily.

A smirk touches her lips. She looks up at me with indifferent eyes. "You are wondering why I would agree with Irv." I nod. I know I won't get an answer. "Irv showed up at my home," I have to stop my jaw from dropping. "When he told me what would be happening it appears Caroline overheard. She has recently become a vegetarian and is opposed to the use of animal fur in clothing." Her smirk turns into a smile at the thought of her daughter. "I've never seen her so passionate about anything. She told me I should run it. So the article will be appearing in _Runway_."

I smile at her. I want to tell Miranda that she is a wonderful mother. That I love when I get to see her interaction with her children, because she is so caring. That I love to see her kind side, but I don't say a word. Instead I wonder why this means so much to me all of a sudden.

I glance at my watch. It is past one. Standing up I go out into the front office and sign into the computer. "Get me Irv." Miranda's quiet voice floats into the outer office. Picking up the phone I dial Irv's personal number knowing that he blocks Miranda's calls that go through his assistant.

"Hello?" A groggy voice says.

"Miranda wants to talk to you." I hear a groan. "I have Irv." I wait until I hear Miranda begin to talk before hanging up.

I search a few databases and compile the lists of designers into one. I start emailing them; feeling pity for the unfortunate souls that will be scrambling to prepare themselves for a meeting with _the_ Miranda Priestly. "Emily." Quickly I stand up and enter Miranda's office. "Are you certain these are _all_ of the designers?" She takes her eyes off of what I can only assume is the list of people I sent her.

"All that were in our databases." She nods. Glancing at my watch I see an hour has gone by. If I leave now I will get home by three, three-thirty.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be Emily?"

Distractedly I reply, "No, I was just thinking about catching the subway…"

"Subway?" My eyes widen as I remember who exactly I am talking to. I cautiously move my eyes to Miranda's. "You do not ride the subway while you work for me. You will get a ride home from Roy when I am ready to leave."

"Ride home…with you?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," I squeak.

"That's all."

I walk out of the room confused. Why would Miranda order that I ride home with her? I don't think it is because she is worried about the ozone layer. No, that's not Miranda. Miranda prefers silence and privacy. So why? Maybe this is just Miranda being unpredictable.

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Resisting the urge to rub my eyes I once again glance at the clock. The time is slowly approaching four. I am hoping that Miranda will decide she is ready to go home soon. I stifle a yawn as I ponder how Miranda does it.

I know that she has been staying late at _Runway_ a lot recently. With emails and phone calls I work when she does even if we are not in the same room. It seems as if the woman never sleeps. I admire Miranda's dedication, but at times I find myself worrying about her health. When will the exhaustion finally catch up with her? Even if it has she is too stubborn to admit it. I know Miranda won't allow her needs to interfere with the magazine, but that is only because, I realize the more I think about it, Miranda refuses to care for herself past her appearance.

People say Miranda is unreadable, but I have begun to learn over the months of working with her that you just need to know what to look for.

"Emily. Call Roy. Tell him to be out front in ten minutes at the latest."

"Yes Miranda."

"That's all."

I call Roy and then rush to get ready not wanting to make Miranda wait. The silence is overwhelming. Needing to distract myself from thoughts of Nate and how angry he will be I begin to fidget. I called him to apologize for blowing up at the restraint and promised him I would be home hours ago. He will be upset, but not surprised.

"Stop fidgeting Emily." The sound of Miranda's voice causes me to jump, and I instantly drop the pen I was tapping on the desk.

Moving my eyes to the entrance of Miranda's office I find Miranda watching me with icy blue eyes alight. "Sorry," I say quietly, shying away from her gaze. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. I attempt to stifle a yawn and fail. Miranda circles around the desk and moves the mouse around to wake the computer screen. When the screen requests the password she says, "Sign in."

I do as she orders. Glancing at the screen she turns and walks out of the room. "Shit," I mumble. Scrambling I sign off the computer and rush out of the room after Miranda. Knowing her brisk pace she will already be on the elevator.

I choose to take the stairs. Reaching the bottom of them I enter the lobby as Miranda exits the building. I nod at the night guards as I jog past them grateful that I have gotten used to running in Jimmy Choos.

Roy is holding the door open for me when I reach the glass entrance doors of the Elias-Clarke building. Rushing over I get in and glance at Miranda who is staring out of the window. Ray closes the door behind me.

Once Roy pulls away from the curb I begin to regret agreeing to ride home with Miranda, not that I had much of a choice. It's obvious I don't have money but that doesn't stop the embarrassment from flooding me at the thought of Miranda seeing where I live. She makes it perfectly clear that she doesn't approve of public transportation because, if what Emily says is true, it is unsafe and unsanitary. Therefore I don't want to know what she has to think about where I live since it is not upscale. "Roy you can just drop me off by that small coffee shot I pointed out to you."

"But Andy your apartment is…"

"I don't want to inconvenience you or Miranda any more than I have. I'm sure you both want to get to bed."

"If you say so." I can sense Miranda's eyes on me but I ignore her. If she needs something she won't hesitate to voice what that is.

The thought of going to bed makes me want to reconsider what I just told Roy. My apartment is about five blocks from where I asked him to stop and I'm not in the mood for walking. For some reason the embarrassment of Miranda's reaction keeps me from informing him I've changed my mind.

A few months ago I wouldn't have cared what Miranda thought, but right now for some reason her opinion means the world to me.

"It's not out of the way Emily," Miranda says more quietly than usual.

I turn my attention to her and find she is gazing out of the window. The way the night lights of New York City catch her hair cause it to shine in pure silver. The shade of her hair always leaves me guessing. Is it white, grey, or silver? It's a mystery just like Miranda, and at the moment I have the urge to run my fingers through it…

Shaking my head I wonder where that thought came from. I've never wanted to touch Miranda before. I must be more exhausted than I believed.

"You need to sleep." I reply. I catch a glimpse of surprise that crosses her face in her reflection on the window.

I return my attention out of the window, noticing the silence that surrounds us has become slightly more comfortable and less awkward.

When Roy pulls over I get out and turn to gaze into the car at Miranda. "Goodnight Miranda."

She turns and focuses her steely blue eyes on me. I suppress the urge to squirm when she says nothing for a few minutes, but her eyes remain on me, pinning me in place. "Goodnight And…Goodnight Emily." A smile bursts onto my face at her slip up. Her expression does not change as I watch her. "Do you want a ride home, or are you going to stand there all night and deprive everyone else of sleep?" Miranda snaps.

"No," The smile has not left my face, "Goodnight Miranda," I repeat nodding at her. I see her roll her eyes right before the door closes blocking her from my view.

I briskly walk as my thoughts wander to Miranda and her actions. She doesn't care about inconveniencing people, so why not instruct me to call another driver? Now that I've gotten used to being around her she can be civil when she wants to, but she has never been kind, and having me ride home with her was kind. In a Miranda sort of way.

I find myself at my apartment sooner than I thought I would be. As I turn the key in the lock of the outside door I glance to the side and for a moment think I see Miranda's car, but that can't be possible.

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Quietly I step into the apartment and discover Nate passed out on the couch. I walk over and turn off the TV which causes him to stir. "Andy?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah."

"What time is it?"

"Late. Let's go to bed." He groans and opens his eyes. In this vulnerable state I can see the hurt and anger flashing through his eyes, but the emotions quickly disappear. He gets up and makes his way into the bedroom without glancing at me. Setting down my things I follow him.

Crawling under the covers Nate's hands snake around me pulling me on top of him. He covers his lips with mine. I kiss him back with half hearted emotions. His hands are sliding all over my body. They come to a rest on my hips before slipping beneath the fabric of my pajama top. Once skin connects with skin I am seized by the hands of insecurity.

In designer clothes I feel beautiful, but underneath I am nothing compared to the women I am around all day. Miranda is right, I am fat. I don't want Nate's eyes on me. Without the illusion of expensive fabrics. Repulsion stirs within me as his hands make their way up my sides.

I force my way away from Nate. He continues to purse me most likely assuming I want to change positions. "Nate, stop."

He freezes confusion appearing on his face. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. I'm just not in the mood," I respond in a voice so quiet it challenges Miranda's hushed tones.

"You never are anymore. Maybe if you didn't work so much…"

"Don't."

"Don't what Andy? Can you not see what this job is doing to you? To us? What happened to jobs that pay the rent? Huh? You are getting sucked into that world Andy! You're letting her push you around, and…and…and…"

"Who Nate?"

"Who?! Miranda that's who! The woman that has forced her way into your life. Our life. The woman who is a constant argument between us. Don't let her do this to you Andy. You know she is heartless. She doesn't give a rat's ass about you…"

"Don't," My tone is full of venom. My glare burning through him, "you _ever_ talk about Miranda like that again. You don't know anything about her."

Grabbing my pillow I fling the covers off of me. "Where are you going?"

"To sleep on the couch."

Standing up his anger filled tone spits back. "You should just go crawl in bed with Miranda. It's obvious that's where you want to be."

I open my mouth to snap back but decide it's not worth it. For some reason Nate is jealous, and it is clear he has no clue what he is talking about.

The urge to touch Miranda's hair runs through my mind, or maybe he does…

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I see a flash of Emily opening the glass door before Miranda pushes past her into the office. She removes her coat. I smile and say, "Good morning Miranda." I can see she is tired even though I know no one else can. Her actions and attitude last night are still fresh in my mind and I feel disappointment seeping into me when Miranda does not acknowledge my presence.

She drops her coat and bag on my desk and then disappears into her office. What did I expect? Miranda isn't going to change, but last night gave me a little hope. Hope that has instantly vanished. Miranda rolling her eyes as I closed the car door floats in front of my eyes. It wasn't an action caused by irritation, it looked as if she was amused.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. "What are you smiling about? There is work to be done." My eyes zero in on Emily who is sending me a glare that could rival Miranda's, almost. This only causes me to smile wider which gets on Emily's nerves. "Nobody should be this cheerful this early in the morning," I hear her mumble before she smirks to herself. I roll my eyes.

"Emily." The real Emily motions toward me to find out what Miranda needs. Getting up I walk into her office. "Close the door." I follow instructions. Walking into the room I find Miranda with her back to me staring out of the window at the unsuspecting pedestrians wandering into her line of view.

A silence descends upon the room, and I am afraid to break it. Instead I occupy myself by admiring how the pants of Miranda's Armani suit hug her …

I discreetly shake my head. I need to stop thinking like that. What I really need to do is stop and take the time to figure out why keep having these thoughts, but now is not that time.

Miranda turns toward me. Her eyes meet with mine. "Good morning Emily." I stand uncertain of what to do next. She watches me with an unreadable expression. "That's all." A smile bursts onto my face without my permission, causing something in Miranda's eyes to flicker.

I leave the room not wanting to test Miranda's patience. Sitting back at my desk I am wearing what feels to be a permanent smile. This pisses Emily off even more.

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I watch Miranda with amusement as she rolls down her widow and peers out of it to look at the back up of traffic. Her impatience can be hilarious as long as it's not directed at you. "Let's get out here," she suddenly announces before opening the car door and getting out.

I sit stunned for a few moments until my brain can relay the message to move to my body. Quickly I get out of the car and chase after Miranda. Darting around people I manage to catch up with her just as she enters the building. Grabbing the door I pause for a moment slightly out of breath.

I follow her until she reaches the elevator. I stop knowing I'll have to wait for the elevator to come back down. Looking down at the ground I wait. Feeling Miranda's gaze, which is not at all deflected through her sun glasses, I watch in surprise as she nods for me to join her; annoyance dancing on her features.

Wordlessly I make an expression at her to double check that it is okay for me to enter the elevator. The last thing I would want is to be trapped in an elevator with a pissed off Miranda.

I take my place next to her and our shoulders brush. A tingling sensation shoots through my arm and I am taken aback by my body's reaction. Miranda rolls her shoulders breaking the small contact.

As the door closes the silence is deafening. Nothing like the silence that has fallen over us for the past few days. That was calmer. My body is tense. Nervous I look around. Despite the neon signs flashing in my brain warning me not to talk, my mouth seems not to want to corporate.

"So, uh, y'know the last time I was here James was having this really cool party and uh…" I glance over at Miranda and can see her annoyance building as I talk. "…and, uh, this is why you don't like people riding up the elevator with you," I mumble quietly. The statement is more to myself than to Miranda, and it is accompanied by a nervous giggle. I curse the lack of control my brain has over my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Miranda turn her head effectively hiding her response from me.

The elevator opens and I follow Miranda down the hallway. As we approach the door she looks back at me, "Take notes and you'll be going back to the office with Nigel."

I nod my response as the door to James Holt's flat opens as if on cue. "Good morning Miranda," the woman opening the door says.

I glance around the flat as I follow Miranda. I watch as James comes to greet her. Nervousness flickering behind his friendly exterior. "Great to see you."

"Hello James," I barely catch Miranda's response. He gives her a kiss on both cheeks. Superficial and impersonal. That's what this business revolves around.

"You, ah, you got the designs for your dresses?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you." I can't see Miranda's face but her tone is less than pleased. My eyes land on James and he seems unsure and disappointed.

I take my seat behind Miranda with a notepad out. I closely examine Miranda watching for the signs that Nigel informed me of. There have been a few nods, but so far it's not looking very good for James.

I find myself examining more than Miranda's movements. I admire her prominent features. Defined cheekbones, chiseled nose, and when I can catch a glimpse of them, vibrant blue eyes. _Perfect_…shit, I really need to stop thinking like this. I don't know what has gotten into me. You think I would have noticed these things when I first started working with Miranda; before I had gotten used to her appearance and constant presence in my life.

I refocus on the movements around me just in time to turn and watch as Miranda purses her lips at the dress that was designed specifically for her. '_Catastrophe_.'

Miranda doesn't waste time. She stands and everyone copies her actions. We have to take shifts in the elevator. Miranda of course riding alone.

I hold the door open and listen as she says in a hushed tone to Nigel, "I just don't understand. I'm appalled."

Nigel of course agrees and chimes in, "It's absurd. Appalled. "

"You deal with it," Miranda orders Nigel; briefly resting her fingers on his chest.

"I'll talk to him," he reassures her.

Miranda speeds up and I grab Nigel's shoulder as my confusion builds. When I'm certain Miranda won't hear me I quietly ask, "So because she pursed her lips, he's gonna change his entire collection?"

He looks at me as if I am a complete idiot. "You still don't get it do you? Her opinion is the only one that matters." He walks past me.

'Her opinion is the only one that matters,' I remember my embarrassment last night, and realize I understand completely. I find I have stopped so I hurry forward. Miranda opens the car door. "Call my husband and confirm dinner."

"At Pastis? Done." I take the door handle and open the door the rest of the way.

"And I'll need a change of clothes." She glances at me for a moment before looking in the car.

"Well, I've already messengered your outfit over to the shoot." That catches her attention and her eyes find mine. For a second I can tell she is pleased before the indifference settles in again.

"Fine. And Andrea I would like you to deliver the Book to my home tonight." A smile creeps onto my face. I've done something right.

"Have Emily give you the key," she says as she disappears into the car.

"Mmm-hmm," I respond.

An-drey-ah. That's how Miranda said my name. It's as if her tongue caresses every syllable and forms ever letter with care. Nobody has ever pronounced my name that way before. I like it.

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Opening the door to Miranda's town house I admire the decor. Wooden floors and white walls. Bright flowers on dark tables. An expensive looking chandelier hangs in the foyer. What I can see screams money, but not so much Miranda. Maybe Stephen had influence over the decorating even though I can hardly picture that.

Remembering Emily's words I go to hang the dry-cleaning in the closest across from the staircase only to realize that there are three doors. Emily's warning of being invisible still fresh in my mind I do not want to make noise opening each door; certain it would attract attention.

Thinking I'll set _The Book_ down first I find there are also three possible tables. I begin to panic and a high pitched "Shit," leaves my mouth.

I hear a small voice, "It's the door on the left." Looking up the never ending stair case I see two red head children looking down at me. The twins.

Sending them a small smile I say "Okay," acknowledging their presence. Hurriedly I put the dry cleaning away, and return to the girls. "Thank you," I whisper. Pointing to _The Book_ I shrug.

"You can give _The Book_ to us," they inform me, the picture of innocence.

"Shh. Which-which table?" I motion toward the tables.

"It's okay. Come up."

"No. No I can't. I can't."

"What it's okay." One of them says.

"Come on."

"Yeah come on. It's okay."

"Please stop talking," I whisper.

"Or you could bring _The Book_ upstairs. Emily does it all the time." The other girl says something that I can't hear and her sister looks at her.

"Right. She does. All the time."

"Yeah?" It does sound like something Emily would do. "Okay."

As quietly as possible I ascend the stairs. When I reach the second floor I am horrified as Miranda's voice floats into the room. I shouldn't be doing this. "What did you expect me to do? Walk out in the middle of a cover shoot?"

"I rushed out of an investment committee meeting," Stephen. Before I can turn around Miranda and Stephen come into my line of view and stop right in front of the stairwell. "And I sat there waiting for you for almost an hour."

"I told you the cell phones didn't work. Nobody could get a signal out." Miranda's tone is controlled, but at the same time almost pleading. I can smell the alcohol permeating the air around Stephen. Miranda's tone along with the reeking alcohol make me worry about Miranda. Even worry about her safety. She is Miranda Priestly though; she can take care of herself. No need to worry…no need.

"I knew what everyone in that restaurant was thinking," Turning I hope to make it down the stairs unnoticed. "There he is waiting for her again."

There is an icy silence and I know my presence has been discovered. Looking back at Miranda her expression paralyzes me. I have never seen so much anger, uncertainty, and…and pain in those eyes at once.

She doesn't say anything as I place _The Book_ on the stairs, but I can feel her eyes piercing me searching for something I am not aware of. I glance at her one last time and see that she has recovered from her shock and has managed to contain some of her emotion before I rush back down the stairs.

I open the door, "Andrea." I know Miranda hasn't descended the stairs, but it sounds as if she is right behind me. For once in my life I ignore her and step out of her townhouse closing the door behind me. That was probably one of my biggest mistakes so far. Not overhearing Miranda and Stephen arguing, but refusing to acknowledge Miranda.

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Stepping out of the shower I throw on one of Nate's t-shirts and then get into bed. As soon as my head hits the pillow I can feel the tears building again. I thought that I had already cried all that I can for the night.

Tears, warm against my skin begin to stream down my face. This is it. This will be the end of my job at _Runway_. That's not it though. That's not what is bothering me. What is bothering me is that leaving _Runway_ will mean leaving Miranda.

And I don't want Miranda Priestly to disappear from my life.

* * *

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Miranda's POV**

Sighing I retreat from the stairwell into my office with _The Book_ in my hands. Locking the door behind me I take a seat behind my desk and rest my head on the cool wood. It's probably better Andrea didn't come when I called after her. What was I planning to do? Thank her for interrupting an argument with my husband that probably would have led to him hurting me?

Did I want to scare the young girl? Make sure that what she has seen would not be revealed? No, no because I know Andrea will not utter a word of what she has seen.

Glancing at the phone I consider calling her. But to say what? I know I will have to take action. This cannot go unpunished no matter who the assistant is.

It is odd really that Andrea happened to wander upstairs. The exact person occupying my thoughts at the moment. I was tuning Stephen out and contemplating how well Andrea has been doing lately. More than that I was thinking about the moments that we've had together alone. Something about them leaves me filled with a sense of promise. A promise of what though, I am not sure.

I am certain that Andrea is different. She is kind and seems to genuinely care about my opinion when everyone else accepts it to get by. She acts like she wants to make sure my life is easier. Like she is interested in me. This is why I know I am imagining things. Who would want to get to know the Dragon Lady?

Maybe this is the best thing for me. To get rid of Andrea. Maybe things will become less complicated, or maybe they will become more difficult.

Dragging my hand over my face I let out a frustrated groan and then focus all of my attention on _The Book_. Sometimes it is a good thing I am so busy.

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I watch as the employees of _Runway_ scatter from my path, but it does nothing to lift my mood. The turmoil of emotions coursing through me has my mind spinning in every direction trying desperately to figure out why I feel even the slightest remorse for what I have to do.

This morning the girls came downstairs begging me for the newest Harry Potter book. The unpublished Harry Potter book.

Andrea will be gone by the end of the day.

Entering the office I notice the subject of my intense confusion is not yet here. Glancing at my watch I realize I am early. I throw my bag and purse in the direction of Emily trusting her to catch it. She knows what will happen if she doesn't.

Absentmindedly I brush the unruly lock of shock, white hair out of my eyes. I take a seat at my desk and start to make a list of things I need to make sure the girls have before they go to their Grandma's. Since Andrea will be busy I will have to leave the task to Emily and pray to God the girl doesn't mess up.

I have only been writing for a few minutes when I see Andrea entering through the glass doors. I watch without detection as Emily intercepts Andrea before she can make it halfway through the lobby and then as Emily proceeds to drag Andrea out of my line of view. I can hear their hushed voices and I know that Emily is scolding Andrea.

Because of the trip to Paris. I am well aware of how much this trip means to Emily and she will have assumed by my mood that whatever Andrea has done will jeopardize her chances of going to Paris. Little does she know it probably makes her chances higher due to Andrea's performance lately.

I decide that I have given them enough time to fill each other in, "Andrea," I call softly. Returning to my list I wait for the young woman.

I observe as she sets purse on her desk and enters the room appearing paler than usual, and extremely nervous. She hesitates in meeting my eyes. This action bothers me more than it should. Very few people are willing to meet my eyes without fear or hesitance. Andrea was one of them. My eyes skim her figure in habit and I find myself approving of her ensemble even though that is not my purpose of calling for her. "Miranda about last night, I..."

I do not give her the chance to explain. I cannot risk her giving me an explanation that will make me change my mind, "I need the new Harry Potter book for the twins." I focus my attention back on my notes finding it easier to maintain a cool demeanor when I am not looking at Andrea.

"Okay," I can hear the relief in her voice as my request registers. "Okay. I'll go down to Barnes and Noble right now." She is assuming I am choosing to ignore the events that took place last night. That is my fault. I have given Andrea far too much leeway that I would never have given any of the other employee at _Runway_.

She turns to leave. Icily I say, "Did you fall down and smack your little head on the pavement?" As she again faces me I can see recognition flashing through her eyes. At any other time I know I would see disbelief in those large brown eyes. I would see the challenge in those eyes forming a smart answer. But at the moment all I can see is realization and fear.

If I were to show my true emotions to this young woman I am certain at some point my eyes would mirror hers. Regret, sorrow, and guilt like I have never experienced are gnawing away at me. I am forced to keep reminding myself that I am doing the right thing. That if it were anyone else I wouldn't give a second thought about firing them.

"Not that I can recall," she replies quietly.

"We have all the published Harry Potter books. The twins want to know what happens next." I glance at her and continue with my work grabbing a sheet of personalized stationary from the corner of my desk.

"You want the unpublished manuscript?" The certainty of impossibility in her tone is overwhelming.

"Well we know everyone in publishing." I look up from what I am doing and allow my eyes to dart around; not wanting them to rest on Andrea for a long period of time. "It shouldn't be a problem, should it?" I glance back down and then gaze up at her for effect. I place an expression on my face full of anger and spite. Changing my tone slightly I add, "And you can do anything right?"

I return to the letter I am writing and hear Andrea let out a small sigh. I do not need to look up to imagine the look on her face at the moment.

As Andrea leaves the room my cell phone begins to ring. Clearing my throat I pick it up. My eyes scan the ID and it informs me that it is Caroline. "Yes, Bobbsey?"

"Do you have the book yet Mom? I am dying to know what happens next." I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. It's just like Caroline to get to the point. There is no doubt that she is my child.

"I know, baby. Mommy's working very hard to get it for you." Usually this would be a small fib that I occasionally have to tell the girls to pacify them for the time being. However considering exactly what is happening in order for this book to be obtained or not obtained by Andrea appears to be quite an emotional workout for me. Which is ridiculous, but true.

"Do you think we'll have it by the time we have to leave?"

"I will make sure of it darling. I have to go Caroline. I love you."

"I love you too Mom.'

"And please tell Cassidy that I love her. I know she is standing right next to you."

"Hold on." I hear her talking to Cassidy. "She says she loves you too."

"Bye." Caroline hangs up the phone without replying. Signing the letter I just finished writing, to a big shot at one of the companies that buys add space, I fold it and make a mental note to give it to Irv for him to deliver, since he requested it.

Walking into the outer office I refuse to glance at either of my assistants. "My girls are leaving on the train for their Grandmother's at four so the book better be here no later than three."

"Of course," Andrea replies. I can hear the slight panic in her voice. There used to be a time when that would amuse me.

"And I would like my steak here in fifteen minutes." I glance back at her before I leave. Andrea is definitely panicking.

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Lunch with Irv. Just great. Could this day get any better? What a waste of a good hour or so. Even I can't say no to Irv. Often.

I breeze into the front lobby of my office. "Coat, bag." I instruct Emily knowing that she is somewhere in the room. My full attention is focused on the young woman standing over a fresh steak. Her cleavage is peaking from beneath the loose, olive green, Chanel top. Creamy, porcelain skin is being tantalizingly displayed to anyone standing in front of Andrea. One more reason giving Andrea the task of finding the Harry Potter book is a good idea.

I pull reign on my thoughts without showing any sign of having let them stray. Time to make Andrea's day even harder. "What is that? Oh, I don't want that. I'm having lunch with Irv." Dropping _The Book_ on my desk I turn around and begin to leave the room. Deliberately I pause and gaze back at Andrea as I inform her, "I'll be back at three. I'd like my Starbucks waiting." I gaze at my watch and observe out of the corner of my eye as Andrea's anxiety reaches a new level. "Oh, and if you don't have that Harry Potter book by then don't even bother coming back." The expression she sends me is one of pure terror. It is almost as if I ran over her dog and didn't feel an ounce of remorse.

I adjust my watch as I leave the room not daring any more effects by glancing back. Emily rushes forward with my coat and I gladly take it.

I pull out my phone and hit number five on speed dial. "Yes Miranda?"

"Be outside in five minutes with the car." I hang up the phone without waiting for a reply. Stepping into the elevator the doors are about to close when a pudgy hand stops them.

"Miranda, I hope you don't mind if I catch a ride down with you. Possibly we could ride to lunch together?"

Forcing and icy smile I reply with a lethal tone, "Of course not Irv." If he begins to talk in the elevator I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

When the elevator opens I have to refrain myself from pushing Irv out of the small space at the first chance I get. He was smart enough not to talk, but the frozen atmosphere is a sign of my displeasure. I allow very few people to ride in elevators with me. Cassidy, Caroline, and periodically Andrea. But not Irv. Even Stephen isn't on that list. He has gotten used to it though, or maybe not; I could care less.

Roy is waiting outside of the car for me. He holds the door open and I slide into the back seat intent on ignoring Irv for as long as possible. In the reflection of the window I can see Irv about to open his mouth when my cell phone vibrates in my purse. I wave my hand to dismiss whatever Irv wanted to say and grab my phone.

"Yes darling?"

"Do you have it yet?"

"No Cassidy not yet, but I promise I will have it before you get on the train for Grandma's, okay?"

"Alright. Are you busy?"

I glance at Irv. "No, not particularly Bobbsey. Why?"

"I was wondering if you have time to come home for lunch? We have barely seen you all vacation..."

"I'll be right there."

"Love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

"Bye."

"Roy take me to the townhouse please. Sorry Irv, family emergency."

"But Miranda we really must discuss..."

"Yes, yes of course. Call Emily and she will fit you into my schedule."

"Your schedule?"

"Yes. Roy can we possibly go any faster? I have a very busy day and I made a promise to the girls." Roy turns out of the traffic jam and takes a right.

"Five minutes Miranda."

"Tha..." I glance over at Irv who is watching me closely. "Very well." Is it really any of his business who I chose to use my manors with occasionally? I know I am called the Ice Queen among other things, but the thing is those are only names. It doesn't mean they are necessarily true. All of the time.

"Miranda this isn't really classified as a family emergency is it?" Turning to Irv I fix him with a pointed glare. He visibly shrinks back in his seat and I suppress a smirk.

Tilting my head to the side I raise an eyebrow. "It doesn't? Because I'm pretty certain it does. My girls need me. I can't often be there when they need me Irv. Do you know why that is?"

He gulps, "Why?"

"Because I'm busy making you money with one of the leading fashion magazines." His lips tighten into a thin, irritated line. "So I believe that this falls under the category of emergency. If we need to make an appointment to go over the policy..."

"No, that won't be necessary Miranda. If you need time for your girls you are always welcome to take..."

"I know I am." The car stops and Roy gets out to hold the door for me. I nod to him and quickly make my way into the townhouse. I can hear the TV playing faintly in the media room accompanied by a soft chorus of giggling. A smile creeps onto my lips at the sound of my daughters' voices.

I make my way into the media room and find Cassidy and Caroline curled up together on the sofa and Cara, the nanny, sitting in the chair next to the couch with the lamp on reading. "You could have gone in the other room Cara."

Her brown eyes meet mine. "No it is fine Ms. Priestly," I raise an eyebrow at her. "Miranda. I enjoy watching movies with the girls."

I focus my attention on my daughters. "I managed to find time to come home for lunch and I don't even get hugs?" The girls look at me. Caroline rolls her eyes, but they both get up and wrap their arms around me. I hold them as tightly as possible and place a kiss on the top of both of their heads. "So do you know what we're having for lunch?"

"Sophia agreed to make us pizza." They grin up at me and I can feel my heart melting at the sight of my daughters.

I raise an eyebrow, "Did she?" I ask seriously. Cassidy and Caroline nod in unison with identical expressions of apprehension on their face. "I guess that should be fine."

Their smiles are blinding. "Cool," Caroline exclaims.

"Thanks Mom," Cassidy says in a hushed voice.

"What are you two watching?"

"Drake and Josh," Caroline informs me. I have never heard of it, but then again I haven't made it a habit keeping track of children's shows lately. Each of the girls take one of my hands and drags me over to the couch before forcing me to sit down.

They sit on either side of me and snuggle into me. I wrap an arm around each of them. "Caroline has a crush on Drake." Cassidy states.

"I do not!" Caroline reaches over me and hits Cassidy.

"No hitting your sister Caroline. I will not tolerate violence in this house."

"Yes Mom." I watch Caroline stick her lounge out at her sister. "I'll get you back for that." Her clear blue eyes flash with promise.

"Which one is Drake?"

Caroline mumbles. "That one." The bad boy. I will remember that for later on.

"Lunch is ready," Sophia announces from the doorway. "Miranda, I did not realize you would be joining the girls," Her Greek accent is thick.

"I wasn't aware either. If there is not enough you could always make a small salad."

"There is more than enough Miranda. Especially when the extra guest is you. You eat like a bird. I swear no meat on your bones," she continues to comment on my appearance as she heads back toward the kitchen. Sophia has been with our family for a long time and is a loving, adult figure for the girls and is like part of the family so I allow her comments.

Lunch is nice. On the quiet side, but nice all the same. The girls fill me in about what they plan to do at their Grandma's. They assure me they have no work over vacation except for the long term things that I assigned Andrea to do. I will have to get the science projects from her.

When lunch is over I call Roy to come pick me up. Cassidy meets me in the hall. "Do you have to go?" Her tone is barely audible and she refuses to look me in the eye. I take her hand and lead her over to the stairs. Sitting on the bottom step I gently place a finger beneath her chin and nudge her head up so that she is looking at me.

"Why do you sound so sad Bobbsey?"

"I…I…"

"You can tell Mommy. I won't tell anyone else."

"I know. It's just you're never around, and then we're leaving today for Grandma's and, and I miss you, and I know Caroline does too, but she won't say anything." I nod and wrap my arms around Cassidy. Seeing my daughters heartbroken is a requirement of my job if I want to stay on top. However that doesn't make this any easier.

"I miss you and your sister too Cassidy, but I have to work. You know that, and you know that I love you and Caroline very much right?"

She nods and I rest my chin on the top of her head. I feel small arms wrap around my waist. "Will you be okay while we're gone?"

"Of course darling. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Stephen. He's been mean to you lately hasn't he? Sometimes…sometimes Caroline and I hear him yelling at you."

I sigh. "I will be fine, I promise."

"If you need help you will call someone right? Even if it is only Andrea, or Emily, or Roy."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise," I know right away that is a lie. I will not call for help. I cannot risk anyone finding out about the things Stephen does. I cannot risk people finding out that I am not invincible. That I can be hurt just as easily as the rest of the world. That someone can shatter the Ice Queen.

I brush my lips against Cassidy's cheek and then stand. My cell phone vibrates to inform me that Roy is outside. "I have to go. Where is Caroline?"

"I'll get her." I watch my daughter's retreating form. I have to swallow around the lump in my throat as Cassidy raises a hand to wipe away her unshed tears.

The twins are too young to hear what they do. To have to come to conclusions about what they do. To feel unloved. And to understand what they do. Caroline and Cassidy are only ten, but they are much wiser than most people give them credit for.

Cassidy comes back into the room with Caroline following. I embrace Caroline tightly, but she does not respond. "We will have the book before we leave right?" She asks. I know this is her way of seeking answers. That Caroline will never be as honest with me as Cassidy and I accept that.

"You said you wanted it?" She nods vigorously. "Then I promise you that you will have it in your hands by the time you get on that train." If it's not, it will take a lot to make it up to the two little girls standing in front of me.

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I arrive back _Runway _early. I take refuge in my office completely ignoring everything Emily tells me that I've missed. Andrea isn't back yet. I have to keep reminding myself that there is a great possibility that she won't be.

Sitting in my chair I grab _The Book_ and turn to face the large windows in my office hoping for the small amount of privacy that glass walls do not provide.

I have been examining _The Book _for about ten minutes when there is a loud thump behind me on my desk. Swirling in my chair I am shocked to find Andrea standing in front of me. Yet I do not let her see the majority of what is suddenly flooding into me.

"One copy," I say quietly as I examine what has been put on my desk. "What are my twins gonna do with that? Share?"

"Oh, no, I made two copies and had them covered, reset, and bound so they wouldn't look like manuscripts." I remove my glasses and take note to the fact that Andrea's dark eyes are sparkling in triumph. " This is an extra copy to have on file. You know, just in case."

Without missing a beat I manage to say, "Well where are these fabulous copies? I don't see them anywhere."

"They're with the twins, on the train on the way to Grandma's." I press my glasses into the bottom of my chin attempting to gain control on my reeling thoughts. I gaze up at Andrea and cannot stop the small amount of shock that shows through my mask. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Andrea is now wearing a huge smirk on her face.

I barely shake my head and reply "Mm-mmm. That's all."

"Okay." Andrea is now sending a blinding grin my way. She leaves the office as I spin back around to face the windows.

She did it. Andrea managed the nearly impossible. I twirl back around to grab my Starbucks and watch the young woman leave the room.

Returning once again to face the window I can feel the corner of my lips curling into a small smile as the weight lifts off my shoulders. Andrea isn't going to leave me after all.

* * *

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it's been so long!**

**I'm hoping to back on track with my wrting.**

**Enjoy the update!**

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**Andrea's POV**

Taking a deep breath I slide the key into the lock. _The Book_ under one arm and dry cleaning thrown over my shoulder. My heart is beating ten times its normal pace as I quietly open the door, hoping I will not bring attention to myself.

It has been two weeks since the Harry Potter incident and Miranda has finally entrusted me with bringing the book to her house once more. Closing the door behind me I spin and freeze on the spot as my eyes lock with icy blue ones.

Miranda watches me from the entrance of the room opposite of me with a blank expression. I send her a small smile. The tension is thick around us. I am uncertain of how to react to Miranda's presence. Is this a test? Or should I acknowledge her?

Deciding not to risk the test idea I take quick steps, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor, to the first closet on the left. As I hang the dry cleaning I note the silence that echoes through Miranda's home. I set the book on the correct table and turn my attention to Miranda and wait expectantly.

Miranda regards me for a few moments and I attempt not to squirm beneath her gaze. She holds her hand out and I quickly pick up _The Book_ and place in her outstretched arm. "Very well Andrea. You appear to be capable of delivering _The Book __**correctly**__. _You will be doing it from now on. Tomorrow morning order scarves…"

" From Hermes? Done. I ordered thirty since I was not certain what you would be pairing them with." Miranda nods.

"Good. Call Jackie and tell her no for the fifth time, and get a hold of James Holt and inform him…"

"That his collection is unacceptable. You asked him for fresh and tasteful, yet not conservative, and he gave you last year's designs with one or two alterations. I did it this afternoon after seeing the sketches while you were discussing it with Nigel." Miranda raises an eyebrow at me, but does not comment on this particular piece of information.

"And remind Emily…"

"That she better be prepared for the benefit? She knows, but I will remind her tomorrow morning." Miranda nods once more, and glances down at the floor. "Is there anything else I can do for you Miranda?" She shakes her head no.

"No I suppose," She stops and clears her throat, "I suppose that's all for tonight Andrea."

"Okay," I smile at her. Emotions flash through her eyes so quickly I do not catch them before Miranda's barriers shoot up. Turning I walk to the door. Miranda's eyes remain on me, with a gaze not unfriendly, but not quite kind. I look over my shoulder locking eyes with Miranda for the last time tonight. The corners of my lips curl into a soft smile, "Goodnight Miranda."

Her expression becomes suspicious, but when my smile does not falter Miranda smirks at me, "Goodnight Andrea."

I exit the house and return to the waiting car with a light heart and giddiness that only occurs when I am around one person; Miranda.

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Glancing at my cell phone I am pleased that I managed to get home before midnight. Nate will be happy. Stepping into the apartment I find Nate sitting on the couch. "Hey," I say pleasantly.

He turns to me, anger flashing in his dark eyes. I note five empty beer bottles sitting on the coffee table. "What did the Ice Queen have you do today?"

"Nate please do not start this. I came home early. Miranda may be harsh but she is not an Ice Queen." He observes me with a drunken gaze.

"You have a glow. Did you finally fuck your boss?" My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Nate has mentioned Miranda and I having a relationship here and there in anger, but it does not cease to amaze me what he can come up with in spite.

I do not even know why he would consider Miranda and I being together. Miranda is straight and has a husband. She is my boss and as Nate states an Ice Queen. And I…I have him, and…well… Sighing I look him dead in the eye, "I do not know where you obtained this preconceived notion that I am being unprofessional with my boss, but those comments need to stop. There is nothing going on between Miranda and I, and if you can't be mature when you are pissed off about my work schedule than I do not have the time or the desire to be around you."

Going into our bedroom I pick out an outfit for tomorrow, accompanied by the necessities and then leave the apartment without the intent of returning tonight.

My phone rings and I gaze at the screen as Nate's name flashes across it. "What?" I growl into the phone.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know…but I can't stay there with you while you…you are like _this_. I can't talk you. You refuse to listen so I'm staying somewhere else tonight so that I can actually sleep without your drunken babbling into the early hours of the morning. Goodnight Nate."

"Fine, go running to your boss…I'll call _Runway _if I need yo…" I hang up on him refusing to let him finish. Knowing that he is right to an extent. I will most likely end up at _Runway_. The one place any sane person would dread to be. My current safe haven.

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Stepping into the Elias-Clarke building the night guards wave at me. I wave and smile back.

Walking through the vacant halls of Runway I know that I shouldn't be here. I am not working, and I run the risk of being caught by Miranda Priestly. That can only lead to disaster. However the thought does not stop me, because with each step further into the fashion fortress I feel a small amount of comfort seeping into me.

As I enter the outer office I sigh and hang my fresh outfit in the closet to the right of my desk. I sit down at my desk, and can't fathom curling up in my chair to sleep. I suppose I could sleep on the floor. It is carpeted. I glance up and my eyes lock on the couch in Miranda's office.

I wonder if she would notice if I slept on it…

I wish I had a friend to call, but Lily and I are barely on speaking terms, and Doug has sided with Nate on the issue of _Runway_ even if he does know more about Miranda than Nate does. There is no one at _Runway_ I would consider calling to see if I could crash on their couch. Emily would laugh in my face. Nigel has been warming up to me, but wouldn't be pleased with the request. And Miranda… My quiet laughter echoes in the room as the statement registers in my mind. That would be suicide. Not career suicide. Actual suicide.

My mind floats to Miranda, her surprising, not exactly kindness, but not iciness, not demanding, not threatening demeanor; it's simply Miranda.

Standing up I enter her office before walking out. I repeat these actions five more times before I dejectedly walk into her office and sit on the couch. I did not realize how exhausted I was until this moment in time. Setting the alarm on my phone I figure if I get up at five I can be out of here before anyone considers entering the office.

I toss and turn until I can finally feel sleep pulling at my mind.

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Hearing the vibration of my phone I groan and snuggle my face further into the blankets. Opening my eyes I blink a few times before realizing I am staring straight into a pair of cold blue eyes. Bolting up I gaze in fear, at Miranda, who is sitting behind her desk.

"M…Miranda. I'm so sorry I…" A smirk curls the corner of her lips.

"Calm down Andrea; contrary to what you may think I will not throw you out of the window for finding you on my office couch." The hint of kindness in her voice, since so rare, is overwhelming.

Looking down I speak before my mind registers what I am saying, "You covered me up."

"Yes well, you looked cold with only your jacket covering you." Miranda states quietly as she looks down at her open Mac Book. "I did try to wake you when I first got here, but you wouldn't budge." I can hear the clicking of Miranda's fingers pressing into the keyboard keys rapidly. "I don't need my employees believing that I spend copious amounts of time finding new ways to torture them. No matter how incompetent…" I can only manage to stare at Miranda in shock. Her eyes flicker up to me, "Andrea…"

I stand up and fold the blanket. "Miranda I am really sorry. I didn't plan on being here when you came in this morning. I just…I just didn't…" I can feel my fear building. Tears welling. "You see I had…" I shake my head, "Never mind. I am wasting your time, and babbling," I direct the last part more toward myself than Miranda.

"Andrea. Calm. Down." Her voice is quiet, but not yet venomous. For a moment I am aware of concern floating in Miranda's eyes before it is blocked by a mask of indifference. "Today you will need to put your personal issues aside while you are working. Am I understood?"

I nod, "Yes Miranda." She stands and makes her way over to me. Once again this morning Miranda surprises me by perching on the couch beside me.

"I have the up most faith that you can do this. Andrea whatever it is that is bothering you…" She shakes her head. "You can use the shower in my bathroom. I will get you anything you need. Clothes? Do you have clothes?" I nod yes, unable to speak. Shock is not strong enough a word for what I am feeling. Astounded possibly. "Makeup?"

"Y…yes. Umm, a towel and a hairdryer is all that I don't already have with me."

"Alright." Miranda is gazing at me with an emotion acute to sympathy. My eyes are still wide. The edges of Miranda's lips curl, and I beam back at her. In the depths of her brilliant blue eyes something stirs. I have seen this happen more than once, but I have not come to a conclusion of what is occurring.

"Miranda…I really appreciate this. Thank you." Miranda nods, and my smile widens.

"Don't become use to it Andrea." Her voice is stern. "And I would appreciate it if you kept this between us."

"Of course." Miranda stands and straightens her clothes. Even in the early hours of the morning Miranda can manage to look immaculate in designer clothing. My eyes zero in to her red Prada pumps. The only item she will wear to _Runway_ more than once.

"This moment will have to be taken out on the rest of my staff today. If I were you I wouldn't want to take the blame." I can't stop the small chuckle that escapes me. "I was serious."

"I know." I pick up the blanket and walk toward the outer office.

"Andrea."

"Hmm?" I glance over my shoulder at Miranda.

"Let me…if someone comes in..." I hold the blanket out for Miranda and then enter the bathroom knowing that when I come out the Ice Queen facade will have come back.

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"Andrea let's go." I glance up at Miranda from my desk. "Emily, coat and bag. Andrea's too." Emily glares at me before standing and complying with Miranda's command. I note that my possessions are handled with far less care.

As I follow behind Miranda I observe how the others dive out of her way with even more haste than usual. Miranda kept true to her words this morning, and has been a complete terror today. The staff of _Runway_ will be lucky to make it through the day alive.

Standing outside of the elevator I watch as Miranda steps inside. When she turns her eyes lock with mine and she motions for me to join her. I can feel the corner of my lips curl as I follow her directions. A few clackers have stopped to stare with wide eyes and slacked jaws as the elevator doors close.

"Andrea." Miranda's voice is quiet. "You know I do not tend to meddle in my employees' business nor do I usually care."

"Yes Miranda." The curiosity in my voice is clearer than any other emotion I could express.

"However, though it may not be obvious to others, I can still see you are bothered by what brought you to _Runway_ last night." Is Miranda…no she couldn't possibly be providing…comfort could she?

The elevator doors open and I allow Miranda to step out first. As I exit behind her we draw more eyes than Miranda normally would on her own. The crowd parts for the fashionista before me and staying close behind her provides me with a path too.

Roy stands waiting for us. If he is surprised to see me he does not show it. I know that Miranda's schedule states that the next hour has been cleared for her lunch.

Miranda gracefully slides into the car and I follow her with far less ability. When Roy pulls away from the curb Miranda gives him the name of a restaurant I've never heard of and then raises the shaded barrier between the front and back of the car. My eyes don't leave the breathtaking woman sitting next to me. Miranda glances at me before gazing out of her tinted window. "I do not usually do this Andrea."

"Miranda I'm not certain I understand what is happening at the moment; but I do know I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." Many things that Miranda has done today have been so out of character for her that I realize now more than ever that when it comes to knowing Miranda Priestly I haven't even skimmed the surface of the icon let alone the woman behind that image.

"That is kind of you Andrea. You are always thinking of others… You must realize that I am not a very well liked woman." I can see that Miranda's eyes are closed in her reflection on the window.

"I…I don't think that is true." Miranda turns to me. Her eyes flutter open and blend in with her expression of disbelief. "Well, maybe you don't have many people who like you but…"

"Andrea are you insulting my intelligence by stating that I do not know what people say about me behind my back?"

"What!?! No! That was not what I was trying to say at all! It's just…I can see why other people might think what they do about you, but I like you Miranda." She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me and then returns to watching our surroundings pass by.

I allow the silence to engulf us until I can no longer stand it. "Miranda where are we going?"

"Lunch."

"Err…um…alone?"

"Yes." This day just keeps getting more bizarre by the moment.

"Oh, okay."

"Do you not want to have lunch with me Andrea? Because you can get out." Miranda's guard is back up. Her protectiveness unnecessary.

"Lunch sounds nice Miranda. May I ask why?"

"It appears you already have. It is not uncommon for me to treat my employees to a meal if we have work to do afterward." Miranda's eyes graze over me. When the blue orbs meet my own eyes a smirk appears on Miranda's face. It is the closest thing I have seen to a smile from her. Her eyes sparkle in amusement and I can't help smile shyly at her.

"Um, one last thing."

"Yes Andrea?" Miranda says in an almost friendly tone.

"In the elevator it seemed like you were going to say somethi…"

"Not now Andrea." I nod and remain silent for the rest of the ride.

Roy stops and we get out. I observe a few heads raise as Miranda enters the secluded restaurant, but the people quickly return to their meals without interest in the status of the patron that has entered.

Miranda slows and her fingers wrap around my wrist as she pulls me to her side. In a voice quieter than usual she says, "I like this establishment, because it is frequented by celebrities looking for privacy so often that when one walks in nobody cares anymore."

"That must be nice," I whisper back. My mind is racing as I attempt to figure out what is happening, and why Miranda is acting the way she is.

When I cannot come remotely close to a conclusion I decide to go along with this and hope for the best, because I know better than almost anyone that things can go terribly wrong when it comes to Miranda Priestly.

Nervously I sit across Miranda and cannot stop myself from fidgeting with my silverware. Miranda does not speak, but I can feel her probing eyes on me. Asking questions and searching for answers without words. "I make you nervous." It is statement; not a question.

"A little," I admit weakly. I refuse to look at Miranda and instead lock my eyes on her hand which is resting on the table top. It is adorn with rings, and I watch muscles ripple beneath the surface every time she moves it even slightly.

"Why?" My eyes shoot up in disbelief. A small chuckle emanates from Miranda only confusing me more. "I know why, but tell me why. What about me is it that makes you nervous?"

"Well…um…" I am afraid that if I say the wrong thing I will end up back in Cincinnati before I can even mutter a pathetic 'I'm sorry.' "Uh, Miranda, I'm not so sure that I should answer that question."

"I need someone to be honest with me Andrea. I just assumed that I could count on yo…"

" You have an air around you that, um, kind of warns people not to mess with you. And at _Runway_ there are horror stories, ah…" Miranda is smirking at me. "This isn't some kind of test is it?" Miranda shakes her head no at me. "Stories about what you do to people who get on your bad side or employees that don't follow your instructions. But, um, I don't think you make me as nervous as you do everyone else, because you have, um, have given me chances, and working so closely with you has, ah, let me see that you aren't as cold as you lead everyone to believe, so um, yeah…"

"Hi my name is Toni and I'll be your waitress this afternoon. Can I start you off with drinks?" I continue to examine my fingernails as Miranda orders first. "And you hun?" I look up at the young girl and kindly smile. She has olive skin with short brunette hair which is slightly spiked. She appears to be no older than twenty. "Make it two Diet Cokes please."

She nods. "I'll be right back with those and to take your orders." For the first time I take in the low lighting of the restaurant and the chic yet comfortable apparel. The décor is styled in earth tones which create a calming effect.

"Andrea." My eyes wander back to Miranda.

"Yes Miranda?" She rolls her eyes at my obedient tone.

"I was going to say that whatever happened last night if you needed to talk I…" She sighs. "Never mind." This is the first time I have ever seen Miranda uncertain of herself, and I have to say the sight is endearing yet painful.

"Um…"

"Maybe the nervousness will change," I watch Miranda closely in her attempt to reveal what is on her mind. Suddenly Miranda's unspoken words make sense.

"Thank you Miranda." She curtly nods informing I got one half of her intentions right. "I was thinking," Her eyes meet mine and they hold none of the coolness that would be found when Miranda is in work mode. "Maybe we could be friends."

"Friends?" Miranda does not look repulsed or angered by the request. She simply appears curious to learn more.

"Yeah friends. I mean we would remain professional at work, I wouldn't expect any differently from you, but you could always use people on your side at _Runway_. Maybe outside of work we could get together every once in a while and talk," Miranda raises an eyebrow at me. "Email?" I hastily add.

Miranda watches me, and by the rare sparkle in her eyes I can tell I again assumed right about what she was thinking. "I'll think about it," Miranda says with a smirk. I visibly relax, and if I didn't think things could get any stranger today I was wrong, as a ghost of a smile appears on Miranda's face.

* * *

TBC...


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